


Be All My Sins Remembered

by NancyBrown



Series: My Third Season [7]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-13
Updated: 2010-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from Jack's past comes through the Rift. Gwen puts two and two together and comes up with nine months. Meanwhile, Ianto is dealing with a morning after he wasn't expecting, Martha is rethinking her agreement to work here, Johnson is definitely not dating anyone, and Lois is quietly reporting everything back to her true bosses. (Well, almost everything.) Also, invisible face-eating aliens may be stalking Cardiff. Must be Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Artist: **rexluscus**  
>  Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, Martha, Lois, Johnson, Mickey, OCs  
> Warnings: poor understanding of time travel, even poorer understanding of 40s era British military systems, angst, character death  
> Rating: R  
> Word Count: 27,500 (6100 this part)  
> Beta(s): **queenfanfiction** audienced this, while **wynkat1313** and **fide_et_spe** both kicked it into shape, and you have them to thank if it makes any kind of coherent sense  
>  Spoilers: up through CoE (characters only)  
> Notes: Written for the 2010 **tw_bigbang** , with deepest thanks to the mods. This is a standalone story in an alternate third season where Lois, Johnson, and now Martha have joined Team Torchwood.

Title: Be All My Sins Remembered (1/4)  
Author: **nancybrown**  
Artist: **rexluscus**  
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, Martha, Lois, Johnson, Mickey, OCs  
Warnings: poor understanding of time travel, even poorer understanding of 40s era British military systems, angst, character death  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 27,500 (6100 this part)  
Beta(s): **queenfanfiction** audienced this, while **wynkat1313** and **fide_et_spe** both kicked it into shape, and you have them to thank if it makes any kind of coherent sense  
Spoilers: up through CoE (characters only)  
Summary: Someone from Jack's past comes through the Rift. Gwen puts two and two together and comes up with nine months. Meanwhile, Ianto is dealing with a morning after he wasn't expecting, Martha is rethinking her agreement to work here, Johnson is definitely not dating anyone, and Lois is quietly reporting everything back to her true bosses. (Well, almost everything.) Also, invisible face-eating aliens may be stalking Cardiff. Must be Tuesday.  
Notes: Written for the 2010 **tw_bigbang** , with deepest thanks to the mods. This is a standalone story in an alternate third season where Lois, Johnson, and now Martha have joined Team Torchwood.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

Jack knelt beside the body, for once wearing his latex gloves as he prodded at the wounds on the dead man's face. Martha had scolded them for contaminating scenes, and while Gwen had fussed about the same thing in her own early days, Jack was currently glad enough to have Martha aboard that he humoured her when he could. Ianto kept his mouth shut, supplied the SUV with gloves in various sizes, and waited for the inevitable fallout when Jack got bored or sloppy and stopped bothering.

Jack asked, "What did the witness say again?"

"That it was 'an invisible face-eating alien.'" He'd had Ianto repeat the phrase twice already. "This is one of those occasions where you just like listening to me say the words, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Shall I call the others out?"

Jack stood up. "No. The witness wasn't sure what he saw, was he?"

"Not if 'invisible face-eating alien' was the description, no."

Jack's eyes accused Ianto of saying it again on purpose. Ianto refused to give him an answer either way, even though he had.

"Looks like a Weevil attack. Agreed?"

Ianto nodded. The wounds on the corpse's face and the slashing cut to the throat were consistent, and at least the poor man would have died quickly.

"Fine. I'll let the police know they've got a rabid dog on the loose. You give the witness a nice cup of coffee." Their eyes both slid to the sacrificial thermos sitting in the SUV. It could be their breakfast, or it could be filled with delicious amnesia for the witness.

Ianto said, "He didn't see much. And after the Daleks … "

"Dose him."

A few minutes later, they were in the SUV, headed towards the Hub. Ianto stifled his yawn.

"Think of it as getting a good early start to the day," Jack said teasingly.

"It's not as if we had much sleep last night."

Several things piled into Ianto's head at once with the words, and he sat upright, suddenly quite awake. He'd been too muzzy-headed when the call came through to think about anything other than fumbling his clothes on and staggering out behind Jack. Now, with the cold light of morning about to bloom over the city, Ianto remembered last night with crystal clarity. What had been a spontaneous dally with a new experience looked in hindsight like a fast way to destroy everything he'd grown to cherish.

"Oh God."

"You and Lois did say that a number of times. I decided not to take it as a personal compliment, but it's tough."

"Oh God," he said again.

Jack gave him a long look, which made the drive more intimidating as Jack swerved without looking to miss another vehicle. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he said automatically, as images from the night before replayed in his mind. Had he actually … Yes, he'd signed his name across Lois's stomach with a highlighter marker at one point. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Jack made many things seem like good ideas. "Oh God."

"Ianto? Talk to me. Hyperventilating is bad for you."

"I'm not going to hyperventilate. Jack, she's going to be at work today."

"I should hope so. She didn't ask for any leave, unless you signed my name on something again." Ianto twitched at the close parallel to his own thoughts. He almost took the bait, almost started fussing back that he'd only signed Jack's name when Jack had vanished with the Doctor, because he could forge Jack's handwriting and Gwen had asked nicely, and they all liked getting paid. And that wasn't the point here.

"What are we going to say to her?"

"I'll start with 'Good morning,' get a little flirting in. People notice when you stop flirting in public. Then I'll ask her to get things ready for our morning meeting."

"Jack … "

"If you're going to make a thing about this, we need to talk now. You said you'd be fine if it was someone we both liked, someone we both trusted, and someone who wasn't otherwise attached. You like her, I like her, she likes us, and unless I'm really misreading signals, you both had a fantastic time last night, and I know I did. What's the problem?"

"How am I going to talk to her today?" All the air was gone from his lungs.

Jack closed his eyes, against all the rules of the road. Sometimes he did that, Ianto had noticed, when he was trying to remind himself of things that had slipped away when he was underground so long. He did it less and less, but there were still moments when Ianto could see Jack trying to piece back who he'd been. And on occasion, there were bits missing. "The first time you and I had sex, were you like this the next day?"

He chose to believe Jack was unable to remember the morning after, and that he had not forgotten their first night. Little lies got Ianto through his days. "I was. But I kept the panicking to myself for the most part. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything."

"And how did that turn out?"

You live with me, although you refuse to admit we've been living together for months. Last night notwithstanding, you claim you haven't been with anyone but me in the kind of timespan that I normally only think of in regard to history books. I've forgotten what it's like not to spend nearly every waking and sleeping hour within the sound of your voice. You have never, ever said that you love me, but I stopped doubting it a long time ago. "It turned out fine."

"So there you go. You'll be fine. Lois will be fine. I'm always fine." Jack had his own little lies to pave a smoother way through his life. At the next traffic light, he leaned over and gave Ianto a friendly kiss, just a press against the corner of his mouth. "You'll see."

Ianto managed to relax a little. Lois had a good head on her shoulders, and had been up front with them that this had just been for fun, scratching an itch after she'd broken up with her boyfriend. She'd be as calm and professional at work as ever.

Jack said, "I wonder if she's busy tonight."

Ianto froze again.

* * *

It was just gone eight when Lois made her way into the Hub proper. She'd been setting up the Tourist Centre for today's walk-ins, checking her email, and getting ready for another day at Torchwood. In no way was she dawdling, procrastinating, or otherwise avoiding any of her co-workers. Doing so would be silly, and also counter-productive as she'd rapidly learned that she needed to trust all of them with her life.

Gwen and Johnson hadn't arrived yet, but Martha was already in the med bay making a disgusted face at her latest find in the freezer. She'd started two weeks ago on an extended loan from UNIT, although records indicated she'd worked with Torchwood before.

"Good morning!" Lois said in what she hoped was a cheerful tone.

"Morning." Martha's expression didn't change. "I may be ill." Lois stepped to the railing and peered more closely, then scooted back when she saw the greenish-purplish pile of half-burned entrails.

"I don't blame you. What did it use to be?"

"I'm not sure. Jack's scribbled something here." She gestured with an elbow at a clipboard. Lois was growing familiar with the piles of paperwork, tree-based and electronic, that accompanied each find. Their employer stored a wealth of information about various alien species in his memories, but when he was in a hurry, his handwriting on the matter might as well have been in Sanskrit. Add to that the late Doctor Harper's illegible scrawl, and it was a wonder Martha understood anything written at all.

Nimbly, Lois made her way into the bay, steering clear of the thawing mess on the table. She scanned the note, translating from Jackese. "Would 'Larma' make sense?"

"It might. Thanks."

Lois bowed her head slightly. Her skills included reading gibberish, filing nonsense, and otherwise keeping an office running smoothly, be it for the Undersecretary to the MoD or Her Majesty's top secret alien catchers in Cardiff. It was why she'd been sent here on assignment.

The smell from the Larma's corpse really was foul. "I'll get the coffee started."

"Ianto's in." Which meant the process was probably already started. "But if you could bring me a cup, I'd love it." Martha looked down at the mess covering her gloves and frowned again. "Paper cup."

Lois smiled to hide the sudden worry blooming in her stomach. "I'll see what I can find."

With a careful tread, she made her way towards the butler's pantry, finally sniffing the addictive aroma wafting through the Hub. Maybe he wouldn't be there. She cast a glance and saw that Jack's office door was closed and the blinds drawn, and she relaxed a little.

As she poured coffee into a nice mug for herself and a disposable cup for Martha, the cog wheel alarm sounded, announcing Gwen and Johnson's arrival. Lois pulled out two more mugs and placed them all on the tray.

"Oh, thank God!" Gwen said as Lois appeared with the drinks. "Lois, you're a saint."

For the first month of her employment here, Lois would have blushed and murmured about just doing her job, but she was used to Gwen's effusiveness now, and merely smiled in acknowledgment as she handed Johnson a drink.

Keep smiling. Just keep smiling and no-one will ever look further.

"Thanks a million," Martha said when Lois placed the paper cup on the bench. The doctor had dabbed some Vapour Rub under her nose and seemed a little less nauseated by the stench. Pity it'd kill the taste of the coffee, but Lois supposed there were worse things.

She heard the door to Jack's office squeak open and made a mental note to put the WD40 in an obvious location. Since his cast had come off a week ago, Ianto had been catching up on the Hub maintenance they'd let slide. Even before his accident, the previously-tiny team had been up to their arses in alligators, as Jack put it, so there was a backlog even in the chores the rest of them had parsed out. They had yet to figure out who was going to muck out the pterodactyl's nest, and that was going to be a biohazard issue soon, something which their boss was cheerfully ignoring.

Said boss bounded down the stairs with his typical floppy dog attitude. Ianto followed coolly in his wake.

Jack took them all in with a welcoming expression and brought his hands together. "Morning, kids. No meeting today, that was our London Branch with a heads up. They're picking up readings that look like a major Rift breach in their neck of the woods."

It was another of Jack's idiosyncrasies that he insisted on referring to what amounted to one-man operations as "branches" of Torchwood. Torchwood Glasgow was one rangy old geezer who smoked like a chimney and spoke what to Lois's ear sounded like a blend of Scots-Gaelic and Klingon. Torchwood London, on the other hand, was currently one man Jack had hired, handed some basic scanners to, and told to keep an eye out for "anything weird." That had been last month. She'd only met Mickey once, but she'd spoken to him on the phone several times as he reported in from whatever Jack was having him watch.

Mickey had gone into Lois's report when some basic digging reported him dead at Canary Wharf only to miraculously reappear this past spring.

"Question," said Johnson, hands wrapped greedily around her mug. "The Rift doesn't extend to London, so why are we getting readings there?" And what are you really asking Smith to look for, she did not say but Lois knew she was dying to ask.

Agent Johnson had been discovered early on to be a spy, and the only reason Jack had given the others for keeping her on was that he liked his enemies in front of him. Johnson no longer worked for her former employers, and as Lois had been tasked by Torchwood to help monitor all her communications, she knew the woman hadn't contacted them. That didn't mean she wasn't still collecting information.

Jack folded his arms. "No, the Rift doesn't go that far. But the problem with the Rift is that it's not fixed at both ends." He looked up and over at Gwen, who went to her computer.

"Take a look," Gwen said. "It's like a rubber band." On her screen, there was a string, gyrating almost lasciviously. "One end stays fixed here. That's what we watch. But the other end can wind up anywhere."

Lois had seen this simulation before. Ianto had shown her many of Dr. Sato's old files. This particular one was a visual representation of the Rift-monitoring program, as Sato had tried (unsuccessfully) to trace where the other end went at any given time. She had believed that finding out where it ended would help the team control it better here, but nothing had come of her quest. Ianto had got sad after telling Lois about it, and she remembered that his grief had been freshly reopened.

Lois was circumspect when she put the information into her report. Grief was often a motivation for Torchwood's past misdeeds.

Jack said, "The other end is about to spill in London. We think. So, field trip. Ianto and Lois will stay here to keep an eye on things, the rest of you are with me." For the first time since he'd come into the room, Lois looked at Ianto, but he was an expert at not showing anything on his face when he didn't want to do so.

Gwen asked, "Are we anticipating an overnight?"

"No, but you can call Rhys and warn him it might be. Mickey says whatever is going to hit is coming in the next couple of hours, so we'll be fighting the roads to get there in time, but I don't know what we'll find when we do."

"Sir," said Lois. "If this is as big as you say, shouldn't the full team go?"

"Negative. I don't want to leave Cardiff unprotected." He let out a sigh, as if reading the mind of the man behind him, who was still not making any expression at all. "And yes, that means if something happens, you're both free to go into the field and deal with it. But call us!" This last was barked at Ianto, who finally broke into a tight but satisfied smile.

"Yes, sir. I'm sure the worrying will do us loads of good."

Jack's stern expression broke into something much fonder. "Just don't break anything else while we're gone." While Martha had cleared Ianto for field work, Jack had yet to let him out for dangerous missions of any type despite Ianto's repeated requests.

"I'll wrap him in bubble wrap if that would help," Lois offered. This earned her their combined attention, and a slight flush flowing up Ianto's neck. She hadn't intended that, but words spoken were words too late to take back, as her grandmother had always said. She cleared her throat. "I'll get supplies ready for the trip," and she fled, her exit covered by her equally flustered colleagues who were gathering equipment.

Ten minutes later, she watched on CCTV as the SUV roared out of the underground garage and wondered if it would be feasible to avoid her remaining co-worker until the rest got back tomorrow or the next day.

Twenty minutes after that, Ianto appeared beside her desk. Apparently not.

"Hi," he said, finally making proper eye contact for the first time today.

"Hi." This would be a good time to make small talk, or to worry out loud for the rest of the team, or something.

"How are you doing? Today, I mean." His voice was steady but she could tell it was at a cost.

She opened her mouth to say, "Fine," and instead "Pleasantly sore," came out, followed by a tiny laugh. "You?"

"Same." There was that flush again. She wished Jack were here. Jack could make awkward situations smooth, just by being there and refusing to be uncomfortable. Last night had been massively outside her previous experience, but Jack's smile had made it seem like the most normal thing in the world to play naughty secretaries with her employer and his lover.

But Jack wasn't here, and the night was well over.

Ianto said, "Jack's a bit better at this than I am. Sorry."

She wanted to ask him better at what? Morning after talk? Giving the "let's be friends" speech? She'd run over both in her mind, wondering how the let-down would come. From what she could tell, the two men were in a long-term relationship, and she'd been invited to join them simply because she was the only woman they knew who wasn't married, related to them, or Johnson. Her supervisor had told her about Jack's reputation and indicated she might be propositioned, emphasising that he did not expect a seduction to be part of her job and that she should feel free to decline on her own terms.

She hadn't declined. But she wasn't putting it into the report.

Lois broke first. "Shall we get the 'let's agree to be friends' bit out so we can get back to work?"

"If that's what you want." Something about his voice indicated this wasn't as great a relief as she'd been expecting.

She pursed her lips, and spoke slowly, thinking out loud. "Last night was a lot of fun." She broke off, and looked at him. "A _lot_ of fun." He laughed, some of his tension broken, and she smiled again. "And I won't say I'd object to a repeat, but for now, I think it's best if we just set it aside as a happy memory."

Her own memory chose that moment to betray her. For the first part of the night, she and Ianto had been forbidden from touching each other as Jack gave them truly delightful orders. By the end, and after a break for a late supper (for Lois and Ianto - they'd left Jack tied up, and honestly, he'd deserved it) there wasn't an inch on her body that hadn't been stroked or kissed or more. Even now, looking at his hand resting on the back of the chair, Lois remembered what those hands could do, and she had trouble keeping her voice calm and her breathing steady.

Perhaps he had the same problem, as his eyes focused for a moment on her hands resting folded on the desk. Then the mask came down again as she watched, and a pleasant smile that gave nothing away replaced the flash of lust she'd seen. "I think you're right."

She expected him to hold out his hand for a friendly shake, because it seemed the silly kind of thing he'd do. She'd take his hand, and they would be very, very good and not pull each other in for a kiss that would certainly not lead anywhere productive.

The Rift alarm sounded. The noise shuddered through them both. Then Lois spun to the keyboard at her desk while Ianto hurried to Gwen's station.

Ianto said, "Unknown size, just opened near Whitchurch." He touched his ear. "Where are you?"

The little earbud in her own ear said, _"Crossing the bridge now. Why?"_

That was faster than she'd expected, but then, Jack drove like a maniac when he could get away with it. Ianto said, "We've just had something come through."

 _"We can be back there in fifteen minutes."_

Lois and Ianto shared what were no doubt matching looks of horror at the mental images this evoked.

"Don't. The London thing may be bigger. Lois and I will check this one out. Could be nothing."

 _"Be. Careful. Both of you."_ That last part was sweet, she thought, considering. _"Call as soon as you know anything."_

"We will. Good hunting."

She expected them to say something else, but it was an open channel, and anyway, endearments didn't fit either one. The slight static faded, indicating Jack had closed the line.

Ianto was already on his feet. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

* * *

The need for small talk in the car was conveniently bypassed with monitoring the equipment. Jack and the rest had taken the good portable scanners with them, so Ianto had to wrack his brain to tell Lois how to recalibrate these to give them the information they needed.

"Are you _sure_ there aren't any non-human lifeform readings?"

She frowned at the monitor again. "Five Weevils are showing, but they're in the wrong direction." That could be a problem later, and he made a mental note to keep an ear out for anything unusual over the regular channels. "Everything else is terrestrial."

"Check the site again," he said, and gunned the engine. He was already breaking the speeding laws, and without the familiar menace of the Torchwood SUV, he was risking unwanted attention from the police. The end result would be the same, but he'd rather not lose time in case whatever was on the other end of this trip went on a rampage.

He spared a glance over to Lois, who was still fidgeting unhappily with the scanner. For that matter, he'd rather not have to go against said rampaging alien with her as his sole backup. Gwen teased Ianto about misplaced chivalry all the time, but this was practicality: Lois had very little field training, she was still not qualified on her sidearm although she had regular lessons with Gwen and, bless, she had a tendency to squeak and duck when they were facing something hostile. There was a _reason_ she was office support. He hoped whatever came through would be easily subdued, because the thought of attempting any kind of coordinated manoeuvre with her frankly scared him.

"We're nearly there," she said. "Still nothing alien."

"Scan for technology." Perhaps they'd got lucky, and it was just some random Rift detritus. "One time, we had a huge Rift event that dropped a tonne of alien toothbrushes on a farm not far from here."

"Toothbrushes?"

"That's what Jack said they were. Though sometimes I think he makes it all up. Either that, or there's a much larger number of sex toys from the future that fall through the Rift than you'd think possible."

That drew a laugh from her, and she scanned. "Nothing."

He let out a breath. No use accusing her of reading it wrong.

They arrived at the site and he parked, making a decision as they got out. "Lisa, stay here and monitor the site in case something else comes through." She frowned at him, then nodded slowly. "We'll stay in comms range. I'll scout the area, and if I can bring it in, I will. If I can't, we'll fall back and try to keep whatever it is here until the others return."

"That could be hours." Or more, if the London incursion went bad.

"Then let's hope this is an easy one." He offered her a smile he didn't feel, and then handed over his keys, feeling only a tiny twinge. "If it goes badly, get out of here and call Jack. If the team can't make it back in time, call UNIT."

She looked unconvinced, but did take the keys. "Jack hates UNIT."

"So do I. But they're useful."

For half a second, they stared at each other. Part of him wanted to give her a quick kiss for luck. The rest of him thought that would be a bad idea.

"Good luck," she said, and stepped away, answering that question. Her eyes dropped to her screen. "Still nothing."

He readied his gun, but left it out of sight, and began making his way through the crush of stores. The streets weren't as busy with shoppers as they could have been, which reduced the chance of civilian casualties. Without a working scanner, he wasn't sure what he was dealing with, or how he'd recognise it if he saw it. He just hoped the alien threat would be obvious enough.

Fortunately, the four WWII-era soldiers stood out in the small crowd.

Ianto unclenched. Rift refugees were a completely different story. He thumbed the safety back on his gun, and then said in a friendly voice, "I was wondering where you'd gone. The fancy dress party is all the way across town."

A few onlookers glanced his way without much interest. He gave them a quick smile, nothing to see here, just some blokes out early. "I've got the car around the corner."

One of the men said, "This isn't where we were. There was a bright light … "

Ianto approached them with care. "You are safe here. I can explain further, but we should go somewhere in private."

"We can't leave the lorry here," said another soldier, his face gone pale and shocky. The other two men - one hefty and blond, the other black and bespectacled - came to either side of him protectively, and Ianto suddenly hoped none of them would need a trip out to Flat Holm. These men didn't appear to be as far-travelled as the poor souls out there, merely displaced in time. Torchwood had protocols for that, assuming the new arrivals could be assimilated back into the culture. A safe house, a bit of training, and oftentimes, people from recent or near future eras could transition smoothly. Never mind that the last time people had come through this way, two had committed suicide and the third had fled to London, all to get away from their new best friends at Torchwood Cardiff.

"Is your lorry near here?"

The first soldier, the one who appeared the least upset by the changes around him, nodded. Ianto touched his ear. "Lois, please bring the large tarpaulin and join me. Oh, and a roll of the yellow tape."

 _"Is everything all right?"_

"Just another day," he reassured her. To the men he said, "My associate will join us in a moment. She and I will help you."

"What year is this?" The soldier didn't sound surprised, but worry crept into his voice. When Ianto didn't answer immediately, he added, "This is Cardiff, isn't it? Was it the Rift, then?"

Ianto stepped closer. "You know about the Rift?"

"I do. They'll need a bit of catching up." He gestured at his friends.

"It's 2010." This was in a low voice, only for the man, who finally blanched and closed his eyes.

"1945 for us."

A clatter of shoes later, and Lois appeared with the lightweight tarp in her arms. Ianto took it from her, grateful to look away from the lost soldiers. "Thank you."

The man Ianto was assuming was their leader fell into flirtatious banter with Lois quickly, and the others treated her politely, possibly in response, as the six of them located the half-destroyed remnant of the over-sized lorry, covered it with the tarpaulin, and labelled it carefully with caution tape.

As retrievals went, this was one of the easier ones, Ianto thought. They returned to the car while Lois took out her mobile to call a cab for herself. "I'll meet you there."

His ear chirped. _"Ianto?"_ Jack sounded worried.

Bugger. He hadn't reported in yet. "Here. Everything's fine. Some Rift refugees. We're handling it."

 _"All right. Keep me in the loop."_

"Likewise. Are you in London yet?"

Jack's laugh came loud and clear across the comm.

* * *

They beat the Rift event, but only barely. The SUV skidded to a stop, peppering Mickey's car with gravel. The team jumped out with a smooth efficiency Jack was pleased to notice and joined Mickey in the broken expanse of cracked rubble and pavement that used to be a Tower block a few years back.

Mickey nodded as Jack approached. "If I'm reading this thing right, we're probably way too close."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, and his mouth went dry. "You're reading it right."

Above them, the sky splintered into white cracks. Gwen and Johnson had the biggest particle weapons out, a fact which made Jack only slightly jealous. Mickey's gun was at the ready. Jack kept his own away for now. He trusted his people to fire on his order if whatever came through was hostile, but he did want to start with the option that it wasn't. Beside him, he felt Martha's quiet approval. She carried a gun, and she was very good with it, but they both had someone else keeping watch, if only in spirit.

His eyes glued to the sky, Jack said, "Get ready."

Mickey said, "Now, that's kinda weird."

Jack's head snapped back down to see the readings on the scanner shift abruptly. The spike went negative. Jack felt the blood rush from his face as he shouted: "Get back! Run!"

Martha was the closest and he grabbed her arm roughly, pelting as fast as he could away from the site. Gladly, he heard the others following, with Johnson actually overtaking him in her haste to get away. He glanced back, and Gwen and Mickey weren't more than two steps behind him as they all ran for cover.

The Rift spike opened wide and a large chunk of former housing vanished from where they'd been standing, tonnes of the stuff just gone and air cracking in to fill the vacuum. Jack let himself slow down, let the rest get past him, and he stood and watched as the Rift ate away at the rubble twice more, and then was still. Jack felt a space-time belch would be in order, but none came. He grinned at the thought of it anyway.

"What … " Gwen said between gasps, "just … happened?"

Jack's fingers flew over the controls of Mickey's scanner. Temporal flux was still messing with the system, but he could make out a very rough guess. "That was the far end of the Rift making a pick-up from another time. That pile of debris is going to give us a headache in about two centuries."

Martha smiled. "We'll leave you a big broom, then," she said, and Gwen laughed.

Mickey looked chastened, but Jack handed him back the scanner and patted his shoulder, though not too much because Mickey got weird about touching. "You wouldn't have been able to tell from the readings we had, not until it happened, and if it had been coming the other way, something that size, we'd have been fighting off a Sontaran battle cruiser."

Mickey made a face. "Not the potato guys."

Jack grinned again, then looked at the others. "Can you three load up the weapons so we can get back? I want to make sure this thing is working before we go." He waited for Gwen, Martha, and mostly importantly Johnson, to be out of earshot. "Any news?"

"Not yet."

Mickey had a set of scanners, ostensibly to watch London's skies for anything weird, but mainly because he was one of the few people Jack could rely on for two vital assignments. Sarah Jane had said something was off with the Doctor, something important, but she didn't know what, and she'd been too distraught at the time to answer questions. London was a far more likely place than Cardiff for a sighting, and Mickey's a more welcome face than Jack's, so Mickey kept the lookout and Jack kept the worry. Neither one needed to be expressed in front of Johnson, no matter how closely they watched her, in case her former masters - he used the term deliberately, now that she'd told him who'd given the original order to have Torchwood watched - had an interest of their own in the Doctor's whereabouts.

And then there was the other project, sparked by an impossible cry for help that had arrived unexpectedly at the Tourist Centre four weeks ago addressed to Jack. He and Martha had run into a series of dead ends ever since. They'd asked Tish for help, but she'd given them a firm no and Jack understood; warfare and imprisonment meant knowing whom to rely on utterly, but afterwards, it was often too painful to keep close contact with the people who'd seen you at your lowest point. For Tish, working for Jack on this would mean daily reminders of a horror she wanted to put out of her mind forever.

He wasn't ready to bring in Ianto or Gwen, not yet. If it was a mistake, they didn't need to know. If it was a trap, he wanted them well clear.

That left Mickey, who was trustworthy enough to follow through, and distant enough from the worst of it not to be in danger. He wasn't a hacker on par with Toshiko, but he could sneak into certain locked communications with the help of Torchwood tech, and he could keep an ear on the ground for more. They'd only received one message out of the darkness. It could be nothing. Jack had to know.

"All right. You know the drill. Anything at all … "

"I'm on the phone."

They walked back together so Mickey could say his goodbyes to the rest. Something clicked in Jack's head. "Martha, do you want to stay here and come back tomorrow? Give Tom a surprise visit?"

"I'd love to, but he's out of the country until Friday." Her eyes dimmed for a moment, and Jack felt bad. She'd agreed to the extended tour with Torchwood, but long-distance relationships were hard on anyone, especially newlyweds.

"Remind me to give you the weekend off, then."

"I'll hold you to it." She gave Mickey another hug, and then they were back in the SUV headed home.

* * *

The return trip was less breakneck than the drive there had been, but Jack was still whizzing in and out of traffic like he had a race car instead of a large, black SUV. Gwen was used to this, used to the bumps and shifts, used to holding on for dear life at the grab bar as Jack said, "I can make that gap." Her breakfast wasn't sitting well, though, and come to think of it, most of her breakfast had been coffee.

From the back seat (slightly more protected from the jarring, if only by a small degree) Martha said, "We're stopping in Bath. You're going to need petrol, and it's a good stop for lunch."

Jack said, "We can be back in Cardiff for lunch. A late lunch."

Johnson said, "I second the motion to stop in Bath."

"This isn't a committee."

"Third," Gwen said, because she could, and also a break from the rollercoaster drive sounded like Heaven to her roiling stomach. She could fake a bit of lunch, too.

Jack let out a mutter. "Fine." He resembled nothing so much as a dad out in a car trip with the kids as he grumbled and put the SUV into a lower gear, looking for his exit.

Gwen took the food orders down and added a small salad for herself. Her denims were tight this week, had been for a couple of weeks, actually. As she picked up the food, she idly began doing a little mental maths.

She almost dropped the tray when she came up with an answer.


	2. Be All My Sins Remembered Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as they arrived at the Hub, Martha and Gwen made a beeline for the Ladies'. Martha had known at the time that her last cup of coffee had been a bad idea, but at least she made it to the loo. Once upon a time, back before UNIT's enforced lack of privacy in the stalls, even before the frankly Victorian plumbing in the TARDIS, Martha had been one to chat in the Ladies', usually with her mum or Tish. Leo and Dad would give them all this look, and Leo would ask what they chatted about in there while Dad threw his hands into the air and said he didn't want to know.

Chapter Two

* * *

As soon as they arrived at the Hub, Martha and Gwen made a beeline for the Ladies'. Martha had known at the time that her last cup of coffee had been a bad idea, but at least she made it to the loo. Once upon a time, back before UNIT's enforced lack of privacy in the stalls, even before the frankly Victorian plumbing in the TARDIS, Martha had been one to chat in the Ladies', usually with her mum or Tish. Leo and Dad would give them all this look, and Leo would ask what they chatted about in there while Dad threw his hands into the air and said he didn't want to know.

Now she'd learned to ignore the other people in the room with her and offer the kind of solitude that only came with massive pretence. So when she exited her stall to wash her hands, she hadn't even heard Gwen finish up, to stare at her own reflection in the dark-spotted mirror.

"Gwen? You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine." She ran a hand through her hair absently. "I'm just late."

Martha smiled. "Oh, it's not like they'd start the meeting without us." Gwen's eyes met hers in the mirror, and Martha felt a shock. "Or, you mean _late_ late?"

Gwen nodded.

Her studies kicked into gear, as Martha rapidly processed gestational stages, prenatal care, and exposure and other risks to maternal and foetal health. "How late? Approximately?"

"Two weeks." Gwen sat down miserably on the room's tiny sofa, a threadbare and sprung artefact from before the days of ibuprofen. Martha sat down beside her.

"How regular is your cycle normally?"

"Not perfect, but regular. I'm on the Pill."

"Have you missed any?" The questions were easy. Martha hadn't specialised in Obstetrics for various reasons, but she had the training. The gears in her head kept turning, even as she noted Gwen's responses.

"Not that I know of, but I don't always take them at the same time."

Martha opened her mouth for standard warning about effectiveness, but stopped, considering where they both worked. She settled on a reassuring smile instead. "I don't have any tests in stock. Have you taken one yet?"

"No." Gwen let out a breath. She looked away, and Martha could see the tears edging her eyes. "There are strict rules about children in Torchwood. I'd have to leave. I don't … I can't leave." She looked back at Martha. "You don't just leave this place."

"No." Martha took her hand. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I can tell you what ought to happen first. I've got the physical forms ready, and you just moved to the top of the list. We'll do a blood test, and we'll know for sure."

Gwen closed her eyes. "And if it's positive?"

"Then you're going to have some decisions to make. And so is Jack."

Her eyes snapped open. "What? No, it's not his. It's really not." The quiet regret in her voice said more than her words. Martha could recognise a wistful never-been quite readily, thank you. She swore quietly in the name of everyone who'd ever fancied someone who was smitten with someone else more.

"I didn't mean that. Jack makes the rules here. He bends them all the time, and I know of at least two occasions where he broke them properly and then wrote new ones. He'll find a way to make it all right for you to stay, you'll see."

Gwen didn't look convinced, but she did look happier. Impulsively, she hugged Martha, and together, they went to the conference room.

As they entered, Jack said, "About time you two made it back from No Man's Land."

Johnson snorted, not looking up from the device she was working on with Ianto. Lois had packets out at everyone's places already as Martha and Gwen both sat.

Jack continued, "Admit it. You were in there talking about me."

Martha said to Ianto, "I honestly don't know how the three of you fit in the bed."

Ianto's face went very still. "Pardon?"

"You, Jack and Jack's ego. Seems a bit of a crowd."

As the others laughed, and Jack fake-scowled, Gwen met Martha's eyes with a grateful look. No-one was asking what they'd talked about now, and that was for the best.

Lois cleared her throat. "The Rift refugees we picked up are at the safe house, as per procedure." She looked at Ianto, who nodded and took over from her.

Martha had noticed how much Lois hated to speak in front of the team. She'd come from the school that frowned upon putting herself forward. Martha could not resist an inward smile at memories of her mum's opinion about that school, an opinion which she'd shared with her daughters. Lois was going to have to learn it the hard way. Gwen might be able to help, but Gwen's attention was a million miles away right now.

"We debriefed them upon arrival. Four members of the British Army, from the end of the second war." Ianto directed this to Jack. "They're disorientated, but they're also not sure this isn't some German trick, so they only gave us the most basic information about themselves."

Martha glanced down at the packet in front of her: names, dates, ranks. Maybe Jack could make more sense of them. He'd lived through that time period more than once, although she understood the new recruits weren't necessarily privy to that particular tidbit of information.

"One of them knew about the Rift." Ianto pointed at the first name on the list on Jack's sheet. "Lance-Sergeant Harrison."

The smallest shudder went through Jack's body as his eyes scanned the paper. Martha noticed, saw the sudden concern on Gwen's face as she returned her focus to the matter at hand. As soon as it had appeared, the crack in Jack's façade vanished behind a wall. Johnson and Lois probably hadn't even noticed.

In a jovial voice that fooled no-one but himself, Jack said, "I'm familiar with this group. We'll be using Protocol B. They'll be returning to their home time soon." He took in Ianto and Lois both, as the former sat back, his own concern badly masked. "You two can continue to be their contacts. Keep them at the house, don't let them go wandering or seeing anything they shouldn't. As it is, we'll probably have to dose them with Retcon before they go home."

Jack stood up, signalling the end of the meeting. "Someone make a note about the Tower block. Otherwise, back to work, people." And he left them sitting there.

Johnson broke the silence first. "Is he often like this?"

Gwen and Ianto shared a look, but neither answered.

* * *

Ianto tapped on the doorframe at Jack's office.

Not looking up from the paperwork on his desk, and more pointedly not actually _doing_ anything with that paperwork, Jack asked, "Did you lose the coin toss or did everyone just outvote you?"

"Straws, actually. I suspect Johnson rigged the short one." He let himself inside and carefully took a seat across from Jack. He kept his body language neutral, open enough to listen, closed enough to point out that fooling around right now would not be appropriate. "How did the wild goose chase to London go?"

"Four hours of listening to people complaining about how I drive."

"It's normally a six hour round trip."

"Exactly! You'd think they'd be glad to have two hours of their lives back." Jack didn't meet his eyes, everything about his stance shuttered tight despite the joking words.

Ianto kept his own voice calm, watched Jack for clues. "The processing went fine. We'll want to retrieve the vehicle after dark tonight, and unless you think they'll need it soon, I can store it in one of the off-site locations."

Nothing.

Ianto went on. "I did some preliminary records searches when we returned, to verify the little they told us. Dates of birth, marriages, de … "

"Stop." Jack's face was frozen. Ianto didn't want to push, never wanted to hurt him, and yet.

"It's Tommy all over again, then. Or Michael." Men out of time, loved and then lost to the past: just another hazard of life on the Rift. Ianto was getting used to meeting Jack's exes. He aimed for a safer topic. "Do you know if there's something specific they have to accomplish before they go back?"

"No." The sound was pulled from somewhere distant, another planet, one orbiting in whatever time Jack was visiting in his memories. "I didn't know." He blinked, and finally he looked at Ianto. "I never knew about this."

Three of the four men would be dead shortly after they returned, and that was history, not to be unwritten. The fourth died twenty years ago.

Ianto said the only thing he could. "I'm sorry."

"Don't."

He sighed. "If you want me to be the one who deals with them, I will. Timeline contamination is the last thing we need, and of course, they'll require a long explanation if they see you." Privately, Ianto had already come up with a cover story, that Jack had fallen through the Rift at a later date, but landed earlier. The Lance-Sergeant would probably fall for the tale, and he could persuade the others. "I'll have Lois keep an eye on the Rift predictor. Perhaps we can figure out when they're leaving and shoo them through at the right time." He attempted a lighter note to see if that helped, but Jack was away again, and there was no help for it.

Ianto stood up. "I'll start making the arrangements." He'd also bring Martha with him when he went back to the safe house so she could check them for ailments, physical or otherwise. Normally, Jack would have given that order, but Jack wasn't in the here and now currently, and it was Ianto's job to make up for the gaps.

As he reached the door, Jack said, "Ianto?" He turned. "See if they need anything. Whatever they want, as long as it doesn't destroy the space-time continuum, let them have it. You can use my personal account."

Jack's face was still a mask, but an emotion burned quietly through the words.

Ianto nodded, and went to work.

* * *

Gwen turned the key in the door as the clock went seven. Not a bad day, she considered, even with the mad dash to London and back. Rhys was on the sofa. He gave her a wave and a smile as she slipped off her shoes. The carpet in the house was brand new, and they were trying to keep it looking that way for as long as they could.

While she tidied away her handbag and jacket, Rhys dished them up plates. Gwen took a long look at the greasy sausages and watery mash while Rhys tucked in happily.

"Not hungry?" he asked, three bites later, when she'd finally taken a very small nibble that threatened to come back up.

"Late lunch." As lies went, this one was kind and not harmful, she told herself. "Ianto ordered from that place that gives all the extra papadums." Less of a lie: he had in fact placed an order, but it was for the Rift refugees that Jack was refusing to see. The boss's past kept catching up with him, didn't it? She sighed, and pushed her plate away. "Sorry."

Rhys grabbed the plate and tipped her sausages onto his own. "I missed lunch today. So that balances out."

As he ate, she tried picturing him with a baby. There'd be room for a high chair at that side of the table, and Rhys could cut up the sausages into tiny bites and make swooshing noises to get the baby to laugh and open wide. Gwen herself would be trying not to laugh at him as she …

She frowned. While Rhys was easy to imagine with a child, she couldn't picture her own life containing someone tiny and new. Whatever Martha said, Jack would seriously have to consider letting her (or forcing her to) leave, and Gwen could no longer fathom a life without Torchwood. That's what it did to people: no pensions, no walking out alive.

Once when she and Ianto had been alone on a bad mission together, before he'd broken his arm and Jack had finally agreed to the new recruits, he'd confided that he was keeping a countdown. If he made it to his thirtieth birthday, he was handing in his resignation, and he was going to go off and start a normal life on a farm somewhere up north, raising unicorns. The mission ended with five civilians dead, and she'd gone home to have a good cry, and after, she'd called him to say that if he did, she'd quit too, and buy the land next door, and learn to spin straw into gold.

She'd have to go, and she couldn't go, and there were no answers.

"Hey, you okay?" Rhys set down his fork and took her hand.

She realised she was weeping, very slowly, and she brushed away the tears with her free hand. "Yeah. Sorry. Um. Was thinking about something sad." She offered him a smile she didn't feel.

"Anything I can do?"

"You can be wonderful, Rhys Williams."

"You're right, that I can do." He got up from his chair and pulled her into a hug, and Gwen held onto him like a life preserver, like the most important thing in her world.

* * *

In the end, it had been easier to have the men help him move the broken lorry onto the flatbed of the rental. Ianto liked and respected his co-workers, but Jack was staying clear, and it would take the combined efforts of all the rest to lift the ruin. He decided that a little time spent on the streets, and a little more loading the broken thing into the warehouse, wasn't going to contaminate the timeline any more than the rest that the men had already seen. He did ask them to change from their uniforms into the spare clothing kept at the safe house. ("People wear this?" "Not people with taste, but yes.") No use attracting extra attention.

Besides, this gave him the chance to figure out which one was Jack's ex. He allowed himself to consider the notion that the answer was "all four," but he'd settle for narrowing things down to a single face based on which of them most closely fit Jack's type.

The problem was that Jack's type was "alive and interested."

Harrison was his first guess, and the natural one. He was good-looking in a slightly pretty way, easy around everyone, and a bit flirtatious. Lance-Corporal Lawrence wasn't as attractive as Harrison but he seemed to be a decent bloke, ready for a good time. On the other side, Cpl. Fletcher had a quiet, bookish shyness behind his round spectacles that Jack would find kinky to unravel. Cpl. Stibbs still hadn't quite come out of his shocky state, instead followed along wherever Harrison and Lawrence told him; Martha had said it was to be expected, told Ianto what to look for, and had otherwise pronounced all four of them in good health. Then she'd gone home and Ianto had hit upon his plan to move the half-lorry.

As he shut and locked the warehouse, Ianto took another look at the soldiers. This was probably not his best idea ever, and it was technically against orders, but there was a tradition at stake for when men finished a task requiring manly strength and other things that indicated incipient testosterone poisoning.

"Before we go back, would the four of you fancy a pint down the pub?"

"Is the White Hart still there?" Harrison asked hopefully.

Ianto nodded. "Last I checked." He hadn't been in ages, but it was still open for business.

Twenty minutes later, they had a table and five glasses of Brains. The other patrons didn't give them a second glance. Harrison seemed completely at home lounging in his seat, and even Stibbs was finally winding down, coming to grips with where he was and that this wasn't some weird German plan.

"Where are you boys from?" Ianto gestured at Harrison. "I keep hearing a local accent from you." It wasn't consistent, which Ianto found odd.

Harrison smiled. "Born and raised here, yeah, but we moved to London when I was a boy." He turned his head. "Newport lad?"

Ianto nodded. "Good ear." So he _was_ from around here. Cardiff natives didn't necessarily know about the Rift, but they weren't as oblivious as Torchwood liked to pretend. Sometimes people heard things, knew someone, and back in the day, Torchwood hadn't any means to make them forget it.

Fletcher and Stibbs were both from Cornwall. Lawrence hailed from Manchester, which was no surprise from his accent.

They made small talk for a while, watching the people around them. Two men walked into the pub together, clearly a couple. Ianto tensed. Not everyone even in this time was enlightened on certain subjects, and if something bad went down, it wouldn't be the first time he'd stepped in to put a fast end to a fight. But he wanted a quiet night and he hoped no-one acted like an arse.

Fortunately, the other patrons ignored them and the soldiers barely gave them a second glance, another sign they'd met Jack at some point. Harrison took a longer look. "That's a bit Torchwood, eh?"

Ianto was very proud of himself for stopping his own look of shock cold, instead taking a casual drink from his pint. "The language has changed since your time. The word now is 'flaming,' and it's considered a bit rude."

"Oh, we had that word as well," said Harrison. He shifted in his chair and suddenly there was a warm leg comfortably pressed against Ianto's thigh. Harrison jumped to the top of the list again. Ianto took another drink.

* * *

Martha looked around her flat and sighed. It wasn't bad at all, larger than the one where she'd lived before the Master had blown it to bits. The furnishings came with, and were all new, a little posh for her tastes, but lovely. Tom leaned towards posh over the simple, modern styles Martha preferred, and he'd feel right at home here.

And that was the problem all in one. He wasn't here. He wasn't going to be here. His work took him out of the country regularly to consult on difficult cases, and when he was home, he worked at the hospital just as hard as she was working, first with UNIT and now here with Torchwood. Even when they lived in the same flat in London, they spent at best two nights together per week. She'd extended their honeymoon by three days to steal a little more time with him before work pulled them back apart.

She didn't regret accepting Jack's request for the assignment here. She'd hoped that a little enforced time away from each other might make them appreciate the rare times they did have. But it still hurt, a little, in the places inside her that whispered this was not how a marriage ought to work. He'd died for her once, though he didn't remember, and now it was a fight just to be in the same room, and she ached.

Martha started the gas for supper. She could fry up something comforting and call him, and make herself feel better. She'd get to bed early, make up for the exhaustion she'd been feeling ever since she started here, and in the morning, she could start everyone's physicals.

Her mobile chimed.

Martha dropped the spatula she hadn't even remembered she was holding, and reached for her mobile, checking the number.

"Hey, sexy," she said in greeting.

"Now don't go calling me by your boyfriend's pet names," said Tom, a smile in his voice.

"That's me forgetting again." She turned off the hob, and went to the couch to curl her legs up under herself as they talked.

"I miss you."

"Me too."

* * *

The Hub was still. Even Myfanwy was out for the evening, taking advantage of the cloudy night to stretch her wings. Jack had trouble with quiet nights like this, stuck inside his head with memories he couldn't let go.

He wanted to call Frank, but he and Frank were never exactly on good terms. Besides, what would he tell him? "Guess what? Phil's back from the dead, but we have to send him home to be killed. Want a quick visit?" The shock would likely stop Frank's heart.

He could call Alice, if he wasn't suspicious that one of his employees would answer the phone, and Jack was too set on denying that for the moment. Besides, Alice wouldn't care.

In times past, he'd have gone on the pull on dark nights like this, try to lose himself for an hour or an evening. Hell, back in the day, he and Phil had gone out together, and Phil would say, "This half of the room for me, the other half for you," and a good time was had by all, or at least everyone who was had by one or the other of them. Phil had loved life, had loved people, and had embraced Jack's own worldview that joy was there to be shared. They'd got along famously. And then he'd died.

Everyone that Jack loved died.

Maybe that was the point. All he had with anyone was the short span of their lifetime, so he ought to enjoy what he had and stop worrying about it. He could go down to the safe house, feed the men a story, any story, and then appreciate the time he had with Phil before he lost him again. Just the thought of losing him twice made Jack ache, but how much worse would he feel if he didn't take this chance?

He got his coat and pulled out his mobile to call Ianto and let him know he'd be home late tonight.

* * *

One pint turned into three, though he'd switched to fizzy pop after his own first glass. Ianto knew he ought to take them back to the safe house and out of harm's way, but they were having a good and mercifully incident-free time. Plus, it had been years since he'd gone out with other blokes just to go out, and he found himself reluctant to put an end to things. He had no real friends anymore outside of Torchwood, and going to the pub with Gwen, Martha and Lois was taking work with him instead of really relaxing. Going anywhere with Jack was essentially a date, which was welcome but not always what he wanted. Sometimes he just wanted a couple of pints with mates, talking about stupid things, and pretending for a few hours that he was normal.

Sitting at a pub with a group of time-displaced military men was going to have to do.

Lawrence coaxed Stibbs to play darts while the rest watched from their table. Midway through their game, Fletcher excused himself to the Gents', which left Ianto at the table alone with Harrison. He'd only needed to remove a hand from his knee once, and he found Harrison easy to talk with, so not only was he pretty sure he'd found Jack's ex, he was surprised to find he enjoyed this one's company.

"So," Harrison said, leaning in a bit to lower his voice. "Where's a man go around here these days to find a bit of fun?"

"No fun around here, sorry. Technically, you're not supposed to leave the safe house."

Harrison grinned. "You're breaking the rules for us? I knew I liked you."

The alcohol warmed Ianto's veins at the words and the tone in which they were spoken. The hand crept back to his knee, and regretfully, he removed it again. This didn't seem to deter Harrison in the slightest.

"I like the future," Harrison said, casting a glance over to the couple who'd come in earlier. "In our time, they'd have had to watch themselves in public. Things weren't legal."

Ianto took a glance of his own, caught the rings. "They still do have to be careful. But those two are married." He thought about qualifying that with an explanation of civil partnerships, and then decided it wasn't necessary. "Here's to the future."

They clicked glasses. Harrison said, "You know, your eyes are awfully old for your face. Pretty eyes, though."

 _That_ blush wasn't the booze. "I'm seeing someone."

"That's not a 'no,' that's an 'I'm occupied.'" Harrison smiled again in a fashion Ianto recognised well. That was very nearly a Jack Harkness patented "Labels are so limiting" smile, which had been named as a causal factor in more than one divorce petition.

"It's a 'no.'"

Jack probably wouldn't object, but he'd insist on joining in, and while Ianto had enjoyed his first threesome, he wanted to give himself some breathing room before they had another one.

"Anyway," Jack said, dropping into an empty chair at the table, "that'd be weird, even for us."

Ianto blinked, as Harrison said, "But not unprecedented. Tell me you remember Jenny MacAllister."

Jack said, "I will never forget Jenny MacAllister."

Ianto blinked again, and remembered how to speak. "Sorry, what are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering at home, and I had a hunch, so I traced your mobile." Jack sat back, lounging in his own chair almost as a mirror to Harrison. "I told you to keep them at the safe house."

"Ah," said Harrison, "but this one's a rule-breaker, and I'm a terrible influence." His smile had changed, had gone almost sad. "How are you, old man?"

"Old. It's good to see you again." A moment stretched that Ianto couldn't read, and then Jack said, "I see Mark and Jason. Where's Perry?"

"Coming back from the loo. Over your shoulder at three o'clock."

Jack turned around as Fletcher returned to their table, surprise written wide on his face. "Oh my God. Jack?"

Jack faked his smile much better for Fletcher, and managed a friendly handshake with both hands. "Welcome to the future. It's been a long time."

"But," Fletcher said, clearly confused, "we just saw you a few months ago."

Stibbs and Lawrence came back to see what the commotion was. Jack gave out handshakes and back pats, and explained that he'd fallen through the Rift and been spat out again in 2005.

"Happens a lot around here," Harrison said. "Cardiff likes to keep you on your toes." He gave Jack a look. "We couldn't tell you fellows, but Jack here is actually part of a group working for His Majesty to keep an eye on that."

"Her Majesty now," Jack said.

"Aw," said Lawrence, "we're all friends here, right? Phil, you never said your cousin worked for the King."

"It's strictly hush-hush," Harrison said. "Just like the Rift. Also," he said quietly, "once we go back home, we can't tell Jack we ran into him here. National security, boys."

The other three straightened their spines almost in unison at the words, but Ianto had been caught on a different word. "Cousin?"

Fletcher said, "Jack is Phil's cousin from America. He served with us a while back."

Stibbs kept staring. "It's really you? This is like some weird dream."

"It's really me." Jack gave his hand a friendly squeeze. Ianto watched that, watched the way the thoughts moved across Harrison's face in a terribly familiar manner. Of course, the "cousins" story would be easy to pass off. Alice had trouble explaining why she had a "half-brother" with an American accent.

* * *

Jack waited until Ianto had pulled his car out. Mark, Jason and Perry were on their way back to the safe house, and Jack had offered to take Phil there in his own car. Jack followed Ianto for two streets, then turned off.

"I thought we were going home," said Phil.

"Are you in a hurry?"

Phil settled into the seat. "Not a bit. Where are we headed?"

"I was thinking ice cream. You're a little old for playing catch in the park."

"You can't throw a ball worth a damn anyway."

"I got better at it." Jack kept his eyes on the darkened street, wanting to look over, and also unable to try.

"How long have I been dead?"

Jack nearly crashed the car. Hands shaking, he pulled over to the side and threw on the parking lights. "What?"

Phil's voice was steady, but not as steady as it could have been. "It's been over sixty years, Dad. I reckon Frank and I both died a while ago. It's all right." He went soft at the end, and placed a gentle hand on Jack's arm. "You've been looking at ghosts since you walked into the pub. I'm not stupid."

"No." Jack lay back in his seat for a moment and closed his eyes. "It's been a long time." The message had arrived by courier, thanks to a note tucked into Phil's file to contact Jack along with his official next of kin. Jack remembered going cold, toes and fingers turned to ice, reading the typed words over and over in case they changed with one more reading.

"You've aged. I didn't think that was possible."

"I'm getting there slowly. I'm two thousand years older than I was. Can you believe it?"

"That would explain the grey hairs, then."

Jack's hands rushed to his hair. "Where?" Then he saw the laughter in Phil's eyes.

"I always wondered what you'd do. People notice when you don't change."

Jack shrugged. "I move. I've spent the last nine years living at the Hub." Or he had. Most of his clothes and personal items had migrated to Ianto's flat months ago, and while he did still spend the occasional night at the Hub, it usually meant he was working a thirty-odd hour shift again. Although Ianto had brought up the subject, Jack refused to talk about it or acknowledge the change in what he would not think of as their relationship. Putting words around things made them real, and things that were real could be destroyed. This was Jack's magic trick, a sleight-of-hand and a juggling stunt all in one, where the price of dropping what he held was too high even to contemplate.

Phil made a noise. "Can you tell me about Frank?" The longing was deep there, and Jack's heart clenched.

"I can, a little." Phil didn't know about the Retcon Jack was going to have to feed him later. "Frank's in Aberdeen. He's in care now."

"He's still alive?"

Jack nodded. "He's going downhill. I need to go visit sooner rather than later."

"That's … Wow. Did he have kids?"

"Four of them."

Phil grinned. "Sounds like him. He always wanted a family." The word hung between them for a moment, unable to be retrieved, but Phil never apologised for saying something hard, and he'd learned that one right at home.

Jack thought back. "I don't think you've met Livvie."

"He married Olivia? Good for him. She was beautiful."

"Yes, she was."

"You didn't make a pass at her."

"Me? No. I stick to the rule."

They said together, "No sharing."

Phil added, "Except for Jenny MacAllister."

"Special circumstances."

Phil laughed again. Jack had forgotten how easily Phil laughed, like he was always in on the best jokes. God, Jack had missed him.

"By the way, about the cute one with the tie … "

"Yeah. Don't hit on that one."

"Thought as much. More's the pity." Phil let out a falsely disappointed sigh, and it was Jack's turn to laugh. "You always steal the pretty ones."

His nerves a bit calmer, Jack pulled the car out again into the light traffic. They stopped four streets over at an ice cream parlour that was open late. "Coming?"

* * *

She'd been staring at the blank page for over ten minutes when Lois finally noticed she had yet to write anything. She hadn't written anything last night; she'd made it back to her own flat at past three, and watched from her window as the other two drove away, and she'd fallen straight into bed. This morning she'd had to rush out the door to catch her bus, leaving the jumble in her thoughts to percolate as she headed for the Millennium Centre. And now she was a day behind with her reports, and the cut and dry words she needed to put to the page were being crowded out with memories of strong, gentle hands and kisses that burned across her neck and back.

She pushed away from the desk.

Paranoia was a skill she'd developed when she'd first started this job. Always suspect they are watching you, so always act natural. It was perfectly natural for her to be jumpy and out of sorts after spending the night with two of her co-workers.

Lois let out a breath. This was ridiculous. Casual sex was casual, and while she generally made it a policy not to sleep with the people she was observing, she was a professional and she was hardly going to let it affect her job performance. _Either_ job. Her job with Torchwood meant she had to work smoothly and efficiently with everyone, and that meant letting go of this, or else someone would get killed. Lois's superiors at her other job had told her flat out that this assignment could easily kill her, and given that a man had died on her first day, she knew it to be true.

Her other job meant the safety and security of the United Kingdom. Regular updates on her observations here, while currently unglamorous, might make the difference in saving thousands if not millions of lives. In her initial briefing, she'd been horrified to discover that Torchwood had been instrumental, not in saving the world, but nearly causing its destruction on several occasions. The so-called "ghost shift" project at Torchwood London, once it had been examined amidst the wreckage at Canary Wharf, set off alarm bells at the Ministry of Defence, and Mr. Saxon identified the group as more dangerous than originally thought. At first, the Institute under new management seemed to look for a different direction, but soon the reports trickled in, even heavily filtered by Harkness and his team, indicating serious breaches in security, in personnel, in judgement.

Lois had often heard the references to "Her Majesty's Fuckups in Cardiff," but it wasn't until she saw the files that she was exposed to the full horror of the situation. And these people, these same people who were named clinically on the damning pages she'd been hurriedly shown the day the opportunity came, were now with her every day, giving her orders and saving her life. Gwen was a sweetheart, and always good for a chat or a pat on the back, and had killed hundreds of people when she'd let Abaddon loose for the sake of her then-boyfriend. Ianto was kind, and helped her use the coffee machine, and his mouth was exceptionally talented, and he'd almost handed the world to robotic monsters. (The report lacked details, but then, it had been written during Ianto's subsequent suspension.) Jack had his own drawer in the filing cabinet.

Someone had to watch them. Someone had to stop them if they tried again.

Her reports were written in shorthand and delivered at one of three possible locations in the morning. If she was being watched (and thank goodness her superiors had sent Johnson to give Torchwood someone far more obvious to watch) she wouldn't look a bit out of place as she went about her daily routine.

Every detail could be important later. With a sigh, she sat down and recounted the mission with the Rift refugees, as well as what she knew of the strange event in London. She added a reminder, mostly to herself, to investigate their London operative Smith more thoroughly in case he was trouble later. Just because Jack trusted him didn't mean he was trustworthy. Jack trusted her, after all.

* * *

Ianto woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing again with a soft click. The susurration of good fabric sliding over skin to land in puddles on the floor lulled him, and the spring of the mattress as Jack crawled into bed woke him again. Jack's lips pressed against the back of Ianto's neck.

He hadn't been sure Jack was coming home tonight. When pieces of his past showed up, Jack tended to snap himself shut like an oyster, eventually spitting out a carefully-wrapped bit of beautiful garbage. Loving Jack - Ianto could use that word, here in his head, in the dark, wrapped in Jack's arms in their bed - meant accepting the pearlescent stories for what they were: Jack's own means of coping with events from a life already too long.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, or a witch, or a shopgirl, a teenager full of dreams. She'd found and lost her father in a single day, and on the next, she'd met a man, a fallen prince full of charms, and she'd loved him in the way silly teenaged girls often do. One day he died, like her dad died, giving himself to save many others, but she had magical powers and, like a silly teenaged girl who loved, she wished him back alive, wished he would never, ever die, and the wish became a curse. The prince lived and loved and fought the good fight when he knew what it was, and watched everyone around him die too young, or grow old while his face stayed young and unlined, and he was afraid to love anyone, his children, his lovers, because they all left him in the end. No happily ever afters.

Only today. Only tonight.

Ianto rolled over and met Jack's mouth. He tasted the old pain, tasted too the last of something rich and chocolatey. He expected Jack to break off the kiss, to begin chatting as his hands moved and his body writhed. Jack loved to talk during sex, loved to tell jokes and tease and offer praise and murmur affections, because in the dark in their bed, Jack sometimes let himself pretend, too. Tonight he was quiet, though, his lips too busy with kisses and licks and bites to form words. Only gasps punctuated the silence as they slipped and wriggled against each other for friction, Jack too desperate even to take the time to fuck, Ianto refusing to wonder how far away in his thoughts Jack was when he came stickily into their joined hands.

A long time later, when they'd cleaned up and found comfortable places for arms and legs to rest, Jack said, "After the Great War, our technology was able to receive signals from outside the solar system. Torchwood London hired linguists to translate, and I had to train most of them because I was the only one who could understand the languages."

A different fairy tale tonight, then. Ianto settled in, already knowing how this one would end. "Meg was smart, and beautiful, and one day she told me that she was pregnant. If she stayed in Cardiff, she could put a ring on her finger and call herself 'Mrs. Harrison' instead of 'Miss,' and no-one would know better. I lived with them for a while, but neither of us was good at relationships, and she ended up taking the boys with her back to London."

Jack was quiet for a long time. Ianto asked, "What year?"

"They moved away in 1930. She died during the Blitz. The boys enlisted as soon as they could. Frank made it to the end of the war. Phil didn't."

There was nothing to say. "I'm sorry" didn't begin to address losses Jack had suffered decades before Ianto was born. Ianto drew Jack closer, kissed his cheek. "Does he know?"

"He figured it out pretty fast."

"What do you want to do?"

Jack rolled away, staring up at the ceiling. "Frank never forgave me. He thought I should have found a way to save Phil. I'm from the future. I can survive anything. I have access to the most amazing technology. But I couldn't protect my son when he needed me."

Ianto had been by Alice's house three times since they'd first met, and every time, she watched her father with that same expression, her eyes accusing him of not trying hard enough to fix the things she thought needed fixing. Steven still adored Jack madly, but the days were numbered until he stopped seeing his "uncle" the hero, and started wondering why his grandfather couldn't change the world.

"I could save him."

And there it was, out between them. A wish, a prayer: make things different this time. Gwen had opened the Rift to bring back Rhys from the dead, and Ianto had helped her for a last, mad attempt to save Lisa. Jack had destroyed a paradox machine to unwrite the deaths of millions. None of them were innocent of the desire, and Torchwood made the rest possible. They had too much power, he thought sometimes, and then he stopped thinking because there was no point.

"How did he die?" Ianto had pulled up what information he could, but Jack needed to talk.

"There was a skirmish right before the end of the war. He was shot just outside of Kiel."

"Was there a body?" Jack nodded. "Are you certain it was his? Who identified him?" Bodies took a while to make it home for burial sometimes, and field embalming techniques were only so good.

"I'm sure it was him."

"All right."

The quiet settled between them again, like a cat. Ianto slowly began to drift off again, when Jack said, "Tell me a lie."

In olden days, Ianto knew, kings and powerful men kept jesters to tell them uncomfortable truths dressed up in laughter. Jack needed the opposite: someone to give him a lie to believe in because the truths were too hard to take. Sometimes he wanted to be told that everything they did would ultimately be proved to be the right course of action. Some nights he needed to hear that things were going to get better. Tonight's lie was an old favourite.

"Everyone you love will stay with you forever, and never leave you, and never die."

Jack settled his head against Ianto's. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."


	3. Be All My Sins Remembered Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning came too soon, and Gwen dragged herself from bed and went to the loo. The test she'd picked up said to use it with the first wee of the day. Three minutes later, she had a wet stick and something that could have been a plus and could have been a defect in the background image.

Chapter Three

* * *

Morning came too soon, and Gwen dragged herself from bed and went to the loo. The test she'd picked up said to use it with the first wee of the day. Three minutes later, she had a wet stick and something that could have been a plus and could have been a defect in the background image.

She sighed. Her mate Candace back in uni had taken three tests like this, come up negative all three times, and delivered a boy eight months later.

Gwen squinted at the results window again. She could take it with her and ask Martha to read it, but if she left it too long, didn't the results change? She could take the other one in the pack with her. But Martha was going to give her a blood test anyway.

Stomach in knots, she buried the used test in the bin under everything else, and hid the second test in the back of the cupboard again. There was always tomorrow morning. Then she slipped back out into her bedroom.

She was exhausted all the time. It would only get worse from here on out. As she dressed quietly, she watched Rhys sleep for the extra half hour he got to lie in after her. The story she knew was that when Torchwood touched you, it changed you forever. The sheer weight of the knowledge of aliens and utter shit that lurked around every corner was enough to drag down the noblest heart in despair, and frankly, Torchwood never went recruiting among the noble-hearted. Jack carried the darkness with him like an extra coat. Ianto admitted it was crushing him to death slowly. Martha could slip away alive because she knew she was leaving eventually, and Johnson had come pre-equipped with personal demons. Lois reminded Gwen so much of her own early, innocent days, making her wonder how long it would be until the younger woman came to work every morning with the same sense of hopelessness Gwen had tried so desperately not to acquire.

But Rhys knew. He'd seen the aliens, and he'd helped fight, and he knew about the evils in the stars and down in the sewers, and still he greeted Gwen every evening with a smile and a kiss. He shrugged off the darkness and ignored it, taking on all the world's troubles without (much of) a complaint, nor with broody silences. He was the rock on which she'd built the last of her faith in the world. She loved him so much.

He cracked an eye open. "Aren't you going to be late?" His face was half-buried in his pillow, and it came out as a mumble, and she loved him even more.

"I'm going."

Gwen placed a hand over her stomach. So far, no nausea today. If she pressed, she could feel her own heart beating against her palm.

"I love you," she said, and bent over and gave him a kiss. He mumbled again and was quiet.

* * *

He half-listened to another serenade from Jack along with the morning radio programme. Ianto nodded sleepily, still tired, always tired. Only when Jack made a different turn than usual did Ianto wake up enough to notice the change. "Taking the scenic route?"

"I've decided we're going to participate in 'Take Your Child to Work Day.'"

Ianto thought this had "terrible idea" written all over it, but he was long accustomed to Jack's expression when he was set on something and merely said, "Playing catch-up?"

"As much as I can. Spend some time with him, show him around. I was never good at the dad stuff. This could be fun." He hummed along with the radio. "You'd make a good dad."

"I wouldn't. I don't even like children." Ianto pulled a face. "I pay my niece and nephew to not bother me when I'm at my sister's."

"I thought that's what you were doing. You should try playing with them. They love that."

They did. Jack had easily won over David and Mica's approval by the simple expedient of acting like a big kid whenever he was in the room with them. Rhiannon adored Jack (after Ianto had assured her Jack had nothing to do with his broken arm) and Johnny treated him like one of the lads. Johnny hadn't treated Ianto like one of the lads even when they'd been in school. Ianto's family liked Jack.

"You get along fine with Steven."

"I run out of conversational topics right after we've exhausted 'So, I see you're a child, then.'"

Jack laughed. "And Alice likes you better than she likes me."

"First, while you insist on treating her like she's sixteen, Alice is in no way a child, and second, she also likes Johnson more than she likes you." That hit, and Jack frowned. Ianto regretted it instantly, but truth tended to be painful. "Sorry."

Jack brushed it off. "Anyway, when it's your own kid, it's a whole different world. The things that annoy you about other kids are cute when it's yours."

"I'm sure."

"You'll see."

The base emotion growing in his stomach since Jack's first off-hand remark finally boiled to the surface. "We need to stop this conversation."

They pulled to a stop at a light. "Why?"

"Because I'm not having children, and I don't see the point in pretending otherwise. Unless," he amended, "this is your ham-fisted attempt to tell me you're pregnant, in which case I need to go get very drunk now."

"Nah, the technology for that won't be widespread until the thirty-third century." The light changed.

Ianto sighed. Jack was missing the point, intentionally or not. "You're not pregnant, then. Good." He turned up the radio.

Jack turned it down again. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing."

"No, not nothing. I'm used to you being pissed off at me, but I usually already know why."

He closed his eyes. "Jack, how long do you think I'm going to live?"

Jack opened his mouth, a quick answer always at the ready. Then he shut it again. He changed his posture, driving with one knee and placing a soft hand on Ianto's arm, which Ianto shrugged away.

"You're not going to die." Funny. He couldn't even say it like he was making himself believe the words.

"Can we please stop discussing this?"

"All right." His voice was chastened, quiet, and the upset feeling grew again. Not only was Ianto depressed and moody, he was dragging Jack into it, and Jack was the one who usually pulled him out. Bad situation before his first coffee of the day.

In a lighter tone, he said, "What are you going to show him in the Hub?"

Jack appeared grateful for the distraction, but then, he usually was. "I'll start with the pterodactyl. Kids like dinosaurs."

Harrison wasn't a "kid" by any definition, but Ianto didn't correct him, instead settled back into his seat as Jack started singing again.

* * *

Phil woke with the sounds of traffic outside his window. The bed wasn't much, but it was nicer than the bedroll he was used to these past several weeks, and he spent a few minutes just enjoying the feel of the sheets. He had simple, clean pyjamas, and two fresh changes of clothes that would fit, and down the hallway, a shower with hot water that never ran out. He took his time with each, and went down the narrow stairs to find Fletcher already in the kitchen, drinking coffee and staring outside into the slanted morning light.

"That smells good," Phil said in way of greeting.

"Better than boiled in an old boot," Fletcher replied. Phil poured a generous measure from the percolator and then scrounged for food in the boxy refrigerator.

"How are you holding up?"

"This is all a very strange dream. I'll wake up shortly and tell you I thought we went into the future and saw your cousin there. You'll mock me for dreaming about Jack, and I'll forget by dinner."

Phil smiled. "Good enough."

"Why are we here, Phil?"

He shrugged in response. Jack had always said any time he thought there was a meaning or purpose to things, he was proven wrong. "Because Cardiff is like this sometimes."

"We weren't in Cardiff."

"Perhaps we needed to be." He sat down with his coffee and an apple, and had just taken a bite when the front door opened.

Lawrence and Stibbs were on their way down the stairs, so they saw Jack first. "Good morning, boys!" he said cheerfully. Behind him, Ianto waited on the doorstep until Jack pulled him inside. Phil allowed himself a small sigh; his father really did hoard the best-looking ones for himself. Then he joined them in the foyer.

"Phil, I was wondering if you'd like to come with us for a bit, see the old stomping grounds."

"Can we come, too?" asked Stibbs quickly. He'd always had a big crush on Jack, which hadn't abated at all when Jack had gladly slept with him.

"Afraid not. There are some timeline issues we need to worry about. I'm going to have to ask you three to stay here." Stibb's face fell, and beside him, Phil saw the slump of Fletcher's shoulders. They all wanted to get out for a while and see this new world.

Lawrence said, "But Phil can see it?"

"I know a little more about the future than you fellows do," Phil said. "Part of His Majesty's secret programme. Sorry," he added when he saw the hurt looks from his chums. If they knew even half of what he'd never told them, well, it wouldn't be pretty, and he was certain that his father knew a hell of a lot more.

Ianto said, "We do want your stay here to be comfortable. If you've come up with anything else you'd like, food, entertainment," he glared at Jack, "within reason, I can fetch it from the shops today."

When he'd come to see them, before they'd moved the lorry and then gone out, he'd brought large paper bags full of meat and fresh vegetables like Phil hadn't seen in years, and had explained anyone could go to the shop and buy this sort of thing. Not them, of course. They had to stay put.

"I'll get my coat," Phil said, and went back up the stairs as the others crowded 'round, asking about what was "reasonable" entertainment.

* * *

Martha finished entering the last of her notes on the Rift refugees into the computer. If Jack wanted her to, she could perform a proper workup, but all four appeared to be in good health, and the handy scanner she'd run over them showed nothing unusual, pathogen-wise. If she wanted, she had Owen's notes on how to do a complete physical examination with the device, but she liked doing some things the old-fashioned way.

And speaking of …

The cog door opened and Gwen came in, for once beating both Johnson and Lois. The boys had called in to say they were detouring for a Weevil sighting that had come in over the early morning channels, and would be in later, and Martha was to let only Lois touch the coffeemaker.

This place was mad sometimes.

"Good morning," Martha said, as Gwen came over to her station. "How are you feeling?"

Gwen looked around, saw the otherwise empty Hub, and shrugged. "Tired." She dropped her gaze to her own shirt and rubbed momentarily. "The girls are sore."

Martha held her laugh. Gwen was lucky Jack wasn't in, because there was no way he'd have let that slide without comment. Didn't they have CCTV everywhere around here, too? "My slate is clear for the morning. Are you ready?"

"No. But let's do this anyway."

There was a small, private room off the main medical area, and it was in here that Gwen took off her clothes and put on the hospital gown. Martha did the blood draw first, and then spent her time checking Gwen's vitals, asking her about her diet when she wasn't at work, how much sleep she got and how good it was when she did. She did a quick pelvic exam, which Gwen seemed to find unnerving, but since Martha half-expected Jack to bound in midway through, she couldn't really blame her. No visitors came, though, and Gwen dressed as Martha took the samples she'd collected out to the lab area.

Gwen played with her lower lip with her teeth. "It'll look suspicious if you only do my physical."

"I have a list. I'll get everyone today if there's time." She understood the privacy concerns, and anyway, they were all past due for a checkup. Martha only drew the line at the pterosaur. She wasn't a damned vet, thank you.

As they went out, Lois had already started the coffee, and Johnson was looking over the overnights. Martha rapidly assessed which job was more important. "Johnson, I need you in here for a physical."

Johnson sighed, and shoved way from her station. "If this is Jack's way of getting everyone naked today … "

Martha laughed. Over the speaker came Jack's voice: _"Who wants to help us unload some Weevils?"_

Johnson turned on her heel and headed for the underground carpark, Gwen right after her. Lois appeared at the top of the stairs outside the butler's pantry, the coffeepot in her hand. "What's going on?"

"Get down here," Martha said amiably. "And take off your clothes."

* * *

Johnson arrived at the carpark in time to watch Jones manhandle the first Weevil out of the SUV and into the waiting arms of Captain Harkness and another man she didn't know. She stopped, confusion warring with her impulses to pull out her sidearm, or fall back to a safer position. Cooper arrived right behind her, and then running wasn't an option.

Harkness noticed her first. "Johnson, just in time. Can you help Phil get this one down to the cells? We've got two more coming."

The Weevil struggled and Jones pulled out his can of spray, subduing it again, while he worked on getting a second free of its confinement. Johnson stepped forward, and took hold of the first Weevil from Harkness. Behind her, Cooper cleared her throat. "Jack?"

"Hey, Gwen. I'll get this one if you'll help Ianto with number three."

"I don't need help."

Harkness ignored him. "He got the wind knocked out of him when we were taking down these guys. Remind me to ask Martha to take a look at his ribs."

"Martha's doing everyone's physicals today anyway," Cooper replied, stepping over to help Jones, even as her eyes stayed on the newcomer. "And who's this?"

"Oh. Right. Phil, everybody. Everybody, Phil. Don't wave. Weevils are nasty when they get loose. All right, kids, down to the cells."

They dragged the prisoners down to the containment cells where Jones would process them later, feeding them the special mash Dr. Harper had developed that was part sedative, part contraceptive. After it took hold, they could be fitted with trackers and released back into the sewers. Johnson would rather just shoot them, but Cooper thought this was the more humane option, and since she appeared to replace the function of whatever conscience Harkness lacked, hers was the deciding vote on the matter.

Johnson kept her mouth shut, and helped the stranger go through the back corridors of the secret base. Harkness had never been strong on following procedure or maintaining secrecy, although she had to admit, his tendency to overplay his role and make Torchwood a well-known thorn in Cardiff's side actually did serve to hide its true purpose. She'd been sent to spy on them, and sometimes she still wrote out her observations on the problems she found. Part of her was beginning to see the file as a working list of things to fix if she chose to stay.

Absolutely none of this had anything to do with Alice Carter. Not at all. Alice couldn't stand Harkness either most of the time, and she'd turned out to be a very good venting post. They met for drinks every week or so, and they complained about Alice's father, and that was it. Well, dinner twice. And Alice had wanted to see the same film at the cinema and it had only made sense to go together.

The stranger helped her get the Weevil into the cell, and they kept it at bay while its friends were shoved inside with it. From beside them, the Weevil Harkness called Janet moaned in a low voice, and Johnson shivered. That thing gave her the creeps.

As soon as it was inside, the stranger turned to Cooper with a wide smile. "Phillip Harrison, and you are?" He took her hand, ostensibly to shake it.

Cooper flushed. "Gwen Cooper. Williams. Cooper-Williams. Hi."

Harkness cleared his throat. "Don't hit on that one, either."

"No hoarding."

"She's married."

Harrison glanced down at Cooper's hand to see the wedding ring. "Oh, like that's ever stopped you," he said to Harkness.

"Hey, I've matured!"

"Good lord, the world really is coming to an end." To Cooper, he said, "Charmed to meet you."

Harrison turned to Johnson, and she took a step back defensively, even as Jones said, "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Why not?"

Jones, already mostly out the door, said, "She's dating your sister."

* * *

After Lawrence and Stibbs finished their coffee and the breakfast they'd managed to make amongst the three of them, they poked more around the little house. Perry got the television - remarkable thing - to show pictures and music, but without context, none of it made much sense. Perry had a feeling that he ought not look too closely at this futuristic stuff anyway, if Harrison was to be believed. Last night hadn't been a problem. A pub was a pub, and if all he knew about the future was that the other patrons wouldn't blink at Perry or those two blokes holding hands (or, God help them all, Jack) then he thought the next sixty some years would be all right.

Lawrence said, "We should go take a look around."

"Around where?" asked Stibbs, staring confusedly at a loud woman on the screen.

"Outside. How often are we going to get this chance, eh?"

Perry said, "Jack told us to stay here." But even as he said it, warm excitement bubbled inside of him. So much to see, so much to do. This new world was amazing, he just knew it.

"Jack's a bastard. Probably wants all the good bits for himself." That sounded perfectly reasonable. Harrison's cousin brought the party with him, but he wasn't always careful about what was left behind when he'd taken the parts he wanted.

Outside, there was a privacy hedge, but Perry saw the twinkle of automobiles and lorries racing by beyond it. A quick peek wouldn't do any harm.

* * *

Once Harrison was introduced around the conference table, and informed that he wasn't allowed to hit on any of the rest of the staff, either, Jack clapped his hands together the way he did when he wanted to jolly them into something unfortunate. "Martha says we're all past due for our physicals. I want everyone to get a place in line and remember, cough over your left shoulder."

Ianto considered pointing out that advice only applied to the two of them, but kept his mouth shut. Martha had already informed him his own slot was right after she was finished with Johnson, and he wasn't looking forward to any of it. He doubted he could beg off and go see his own GP instead. Martha would take offence, and Jack would order him to see her anyway, and that just wouldn't end well.

Lois raised her hand tentatively. A moment of fear washed through him: she'd already had her turn, and part of a regular physical was asking about recent sexual activity. Had she mentioned their encounter? Should he? They'd all been reasonably careful, and Jack was immune to most disease, but Ianto or Lois could have transmitted something and not known about it, and if the two of them suddenly came down with the same STI, that'd all be out fast. Nerves ate at him again.

"Sir," said Lois. "Respectfully, why is the Lance-Sergeant here? Isn't this a violation of security protocols?"

Jack gave her an indulgent smile. "Yes and no. Rift refugees are allowed access to the Hub sometimes."

"Yes, sir. When there's a reason to suspect it's of vital importance to their being in this time period." Or, Ianto recalled, when Jack felt like it.

Harrison said, "I signed confidentiality waivers in regards to Torchwood years ago. My brother and I used to play here when we were boys."

Gwen turned to Jack. "They did what?"

He waved his hand. "It was a visitation arrangement thing. And it only happened twice."

"You didn't have a dinosaur then. Or the fountain."

"No, those are new."

"Are the underground docks still there?"

"Yes, and you weren't supposed to go there before, either."

Harrison grinned, and Ianto knew that smile from a thousand miles away. For one thing, the man had smiled it right before he'd punched the Weevil this morning. Actually punched it. The other two had been corralled, but the third had run away from the spray, ducking down an alley. Harrison had been at the other end with Jack's damnable grin on his face and the Weevil had met his fist, and that had been that.

Ianto had been impressed, and then turned on, and then upset at being turned on, and then Jack had needed a hand loading the Weevil in with its friends.

"Anyway," Jack said. "We need to work on the Rift predictor, see what it's planning on throwing at us over the next week or so. We know our guests," he tipped his head at Harrison, "will be going back home soon, and I'd like to know when so we can have them safely in position."

He didn't say, "We need a new tech," but Ianto heard the words regardless. Tosh's absence still ached, and her replacement had lasted less than a day. They'd never find someone as brilliant as she'd been, but they needed a warm body with a brain and a better grasp of the technology than Ianto had been able to pick up. And if the tech happened to be a bloke, well, Ianto liked his female colleagues plenty, but after last night, he found that he longed for a male friend who wasn't also his boyfriend.

The meeting broke up soon after. Johnson stayed, with her "I strongly disagree with this lack of protocol" face firmly attached. Lois helped him clear the cups and plates and get the hell out of there before Johnson started yelling. Harrison had already gone out with Gwen and Martha, attempting to charm them both despite his father's warning.

Lois and Ianto shared a look, which turned into laughter as they left the conference room behind. Ianto said, "I honestly miss the days when it was Gwen taking Jack to task after every meeting."

"When did she stop?"

"When we stopped having meetings." Which was right after they'd lost Tosh and Owen, and there went his happy feeling. He sighed, and then took the cups from her hands. "I'll get these. Thanks, Lisa."

She stood there a moment. "Ianto?"

"Hm?"

Lois opened her mouth and then closed it again. "Nothing. Sorry. I'll get working on the Rift predictor, shall I?"

"Good idea. Best do it from the Tourist Centre, since we were closed yesterday."

She nodded, and left him with the washing up.

* * *

Jack was taking a few minutes in his office to deal with today's urgent pile. Out his window, he could see Phil straddling a chair while Gwen worked. Johnson had already gone off with bad grace to go see Martha. Jack smiled.

He had memos from Whitehall, next year's budget to look over before Ianto came after him with something sharp, and a stack of reports to finish on their activities over the last week. He ignored all this in favour of a quick email from Mickey. He had a lead in his second project, nothing solid, but he was going to do some legwork to check out the facility in question. Jack typed back: "Good luck, let me know. - CJH"

There was a small tap on his door. He closed the email window. "Come in, Lois." She peeked inside, and then shut the door behind her. Lois was the only one who knocked as if she were afraid of being heard. He couldn't decide if it was sweet or annoying. "Need something?"

"Do you have a moment, sir?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?" She'd closed the door, so probably something private, and he was going to guess it had to do with two days ago. "By the way, you really can call me 'Jack.' Everyone else does."

"I know. I forget sometimes. I need to ask you something about Ianto."

"Shouldn't you ask him?"

"Probably. I'm not sure if this is a personnel issue, or something else." Her eyes flickered away, then met his. "He and I talked. About what happened."

"Yeah. You and I probably should talk, too. Yesterday got away from me. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Perfectly fine." If Lois was using "fine" to mean "completely not fine at all" the way Ianto did, she hid it a lot better.

"You can tell me if you're upset. You know it had _nothing_ to do with the job, right?"

"I know. Just a bit of fun." A little smile played on her lips, and Jack specifically did not remember the feel of those lips wrapped around … He shook himself.

"Exactly."

"It's just … Well, we talked, and we agreed that it was fun, and that for now, we ought to stay friends. I don't want to make things complicated here."

"I can handle complications, but that's your decision, and if you ever change your mind, just let us know." This was really going better than he'd feared after Ianto's meltdown yesterday morning.

"Thanks. But … " She took a breath. "It's such a silly thing, and I wouldn't have mentioned anything, but it's happened twice now. He keeps saying my name wrong."

Jack raised his eyebrow. Ianto was sensitive about people mispronouncing his name, and he usually made an effort to get the pronunciations right for others. "How?"

"He called me 'Lisa.'"

Ah damn. "That went from zero to unhealthy a lot faster than I was expecting."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing. I'll talk to him. Don't worry, I can guarantee it won't happen again."

"I don't want to get him into trouble or anything. I just thought it was strange."

"Well, our Ianto's a strange man sometimes. Let me handle it. And Lois?" He said her name very deliberately. "I like the idea of being friends, too."

She gave him another smile. "Okay. Thanks. Friends it is. Thank you," she said again, nervously, standing up. "If you don't mind, I'll go by the safe house to check on our other visitors."

"Good plan. Tell them Phil and I will be by later." He watched her walk out, enjoying the view.

When he turned back to the paperwork, his mind couldn't make sense of the words at all, and after a few moments, he gave up. Tomorrow's urgent pile would just have to be bigger.

* * *

Dressed in these modern clothes, Perry felt less exposed than he might, but this place was so loud, and so dense. Music he didn't recognise blared from automobiles on the streets, screens like their television showed up everywhere in windows and in the shops they wandered in and out of.

"We don't have any money," Perry reminded them. "So don't touch anything." He'd broken that rule ten minutes later at a shop that carried shiny, slim boxes no bigger than his hand that the shopgirl said were telephones and computers. She'd pressed one into his palm, and he'd lost his breath, looking at the tiny screen, filled with information he didn't quite grasp. He wasn't a codebreaker, but he'd always had the impulse, and this device was a code he hadn't yet unscrambled.

"Best put it back, mate," Lawrence had said, coming up behind him.

"Right." Perry handed the thing to the shopgirl. "Time to go."

Stibbs's eyes were huge, watching everything around them, and he finally stood stock still in front of a restaurant. Delicious smells assaulted them, making Perry almost drool.

"We should get back to the house," he said. "We've food there."

Lawrence looked around. "Which way's that, then?"

* * *

One of the problems with growing up with "Secret Alien-Fighting Team" on his parents' resumes was that instead of being overcome with mystery and awe, Phil rather thought of Torchwood as a bit shabby and useless. Mum sat all day listening to recordings of blips and bloops, scratching out with a pencil what she thought they meant. Dad was full of bluster and bravado, but half the aliens he caught turned out to be scavengers and drunkards, stuck on a backwards planet and too stupid to do anything about it. (Mum said this same thing about Dad sometimes.)

Around him, he saw the familiar buzz of hurried activity, and although the systems had updated, he still recognised "busy for the sake of looking busy" when he saw it. Shame, really.

Interesting fact about the future: people were still people, and Torchwood people were still Torchwood.

He wandered over, hands in pockets, to where Johnson was examining an object she apparently didn't recognise any more than he did. She had a severe kind of beauty, like a school mistress, or one of the women in that exclusive club he'd visited with his father during leave once. "What's my sister like?"

She turned, the scowl only increasing her allure. "Ask Jack."

"Everyone says to ask you." A lie, but an effective one.

"We are not dating. We simply enjoy spending time together commiserating over the fact that neither of us can stand your father."

Phil laughed. "Oh, you ought to invite my brother over. I swear he hasn't said a good word about Jack since we were ten years old."

Her eyes narrowed. "You two seem to get on well."

He shrugged. Dad had tried, not hard, but he'd tried. He'd spent time with them when Mum had lived in Cardiff, and he'd spent odd weekends visiting after. When he could, he tucked them in at night with impossible tales that Phil never tired of, stories of stars and monsters and a magical wizard and a beautiful princess in a blue castle far away. Frank lost interest early, preferring the solid world around him, the proper path, normal people living normal lives. He'd signed up for the RAF because it was the right thing to do. Phil drank down every adventure Jack spun and wanted more, and enlisted in the Army because he saw himself as finally getting the chance to be a hero on his own.

"We understand each other."

"Phil?" That was Jack, poking his head out of his office. "Got a minute?"

"Sure." He nodded politely at Johnson and then ran up the stairs. "Something on your mind?"

"I thought we might give Frank a call."

Phil sat down. "You said the shock would kill him."

"Only if he knows you're there. I could call him, let you listen in." It wasn't much, and they both knew it.

Phil picked up the proffered handset and listened as Jack dialled. Torchwood had been early adopters of the telephone system, so he'd known about the devices far earlier than most people. Amazing thing, pick it up, and in a few short minutes, you could hear a voice from hundreds of miles away. Phil listened as Jack flirted his way past the operator at the care home, and was connected.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was old, full of crackle and dust. Phil's heart stopped. Jack looked up at him, worried, but it was only Phil's world ending, and he waved the concern away.

"Hey, old man," Jack said. "Just saying hello."

"You never just say hello." Phil heard warmth past the words. "How's everything been with you?"

"Good, good. Saving the world, causing trouble. How are your knees?"

"Wretched. Thanks for asking."

Jack and Frank chatted, and Phil stopped himself from saying anything, though it hurt. Frank had grown old. How was that possible? Frank asked after Alice, and he fussed at Jack for "not seeing to the damn Daleks faster," and his kids were well, and the future was a strange place.

Jack looked over at Phil, then said, "I'm going to have to get going, I'm afraid. Things to see, people to do."

Frank coughed, and Phil squeezed the telephone, but the cough faded. "All right. Take care of yourself."

"Same. I'll come by to visit soon."

"Liar."

Phil set the phone back into its cradle. "Thank you," he managed around the lump in his throat.

"Hey," Jack said, and he came over. Phil took the hug for what it was. His father really didn't know much about comfort, but he tried. He did.

* * *

Inside Mark's head, everything glowed. This world, this strange new planet everyone insisted was Earth but couldn't possibly be, sparkled around him, and he couldn't keep his eyes open wide enough to take it all in.

This was Jack's new world, wonderful happy Jack, with his easy laugh and big smile, and his possessive hand never far from his latest conquest. Mark didn't have room in his heart to be jealous of Jack's new lover. Jack left everyone eventually. Harrison had told Mark so over cheap whisky after Jack had been transferred suddenly. "He likes people, but he never considers them, not really. He doesn't think to say goodbye. Take my advice, don't get attached," Harrison had said, knocking back the tin cup and Mark had nodded, wondering when he'd see Jack again.

And now Jack was here, and this strange world was here, and nothing made any sense except doing whatever Lawrence and Harrison told him to do.

He blinked. So loud.

"Stop!"

Arms were on his from both sides, tugging on him, and he heard the blaring of the car's horn.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Lawrence demanded. "Trying to get yourself killed?"

No. He hadn't. He was just so confused. "I thought … "

"I doubt that," Lawrence said, patting him down for injuries. The automobile screeched off again.

"Are you all right?" Fletcher asked.

"Yeah."

"I think it was this way," Lawrence said. "Let's get him home before he hurts himself."

They found the little house soon after, and the other two bundled him inside. They had no sooner got their coats off than there was a knock on the front door.

"Hello," said the woman. Lois. Her name was Lois. Pretty black lady who helped them when they arrived. "I came to check on you."

"We're fine," Lawrence said too quickly.

Fletcher said, "Stibbs might need to see your doctor again."

Lois made a sympathetic face. "Not feeling well?"

Mark blinked at her.

"He's just not quite himself."

"It's a bit of a shock, I'm sure," she said. "Dr. Jones said he shouldn't be exposed to too much stimulation." She looked at Fletcher. "He's been sitting quietly here, yes?"

Mark said, "We had a lovely walk, miss."

Lawrence groaned. Fletcher covered his face. Lois said, "Did you? Did Captain Harkness suggest that?"

"No, miss. Lawrence did."

"All right," she said, giving the other two a stern look. "Let's sit down with a nice cuppa, and calm down, and see if that helps. And if it does, I won't have to tell Jack you've been out against his orders."

"Thank you, miss." He beamed at her and her promise of tea.

* * *

The call came in over the police frequencies: could be a Weevil attack in-progress, could be something more. Jack shouted down to the Hub: "Load up. Bring the guns."

Gwen closed the file she was working on and got her jacket. Phil (he was very easy to think of as "Phil") was right behind her. Jack stopped him. "Not you. You can stay here."

Gwen didn't miss Ianto's look as he passed by, gear bags over each shoulder. Jack wasn't objecting to letting him out into the field properly for once.

"Oh, come on, then," Phil said. "I can use a gun, and it's not like I didn't grow up knowing about aliens and what not."

"You don't have the training, and I'm not babysitting you when my people are in danger."

Phil glanced over to where Johnson had her gear ready to go. Gwen glanced down at her own weaponry and equipment, and almost laughed. Jack's people weren't in danger, they brought danger with them.

"Actually," Martha said, "unless you think you'll need me, I'd like to stay behind and process some of this." She didn't look at Gwen, which was just as well because Gwen suddenly felt her stomach twist again.

"Are we going?" asked Johnson.

Jack gave an annoyed sound, then grabbed Phil's wrist. "You will stay in the car, do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad."

* * *

Jones brought lunch down to the med bay, where everyone was pretending not to gather to watch Dr. Jones put a plaster on Harrison's shoulder. Johnson took her own sandwich from the tray.

Harkness said, "Do you really not understand the words 'Stay in the car?' Because I could have sworn I said them at least three times."

"Five," said Johnson. She looked around, realised no-one had asked, and went back to pretending to work.

"I'm the one who's injured and I am not going to apologise. It would have killed you."

Harkness shouted, "It's okay if it kills me! I'm the one who comes back! Next time, let me take the hit."

Harrison made a face as Dr. Jones applied some ointment to the second, smaller wound on his neck. Changing the subject, he said, "What was that thing, anyway?"

Harkness said, "Ianto?"

Jones sighed. "An invisible face-eating alien of unknown origin. Deceased."

The large black body bag showed a large bulk that none of them had seen properly. Dr. Jones would autopsy it to try and figure out what it had been. Johnson had stopped it, with an assist from Cooper. Not that anyone had said thank you.

"You need to stay out of trouble," Harkness said, pointing his finger at Harrison. Harrison stared at the finger, and then chuckled. "Something funny?"

"Only if you know where that finger's been."

Johnson stopped listening.

* * *

Jack let Martha shoo him out of the med bay so her patient could get some rest while the special goo (Owen's notes were descriptive, but lacked imagination in certain areas) did its job. He ought to talk to Ianto, but he pushed that to the side for now. Ianto would take the news much better over dinner, or entwined with him on the sofa, and Jack could pretend he wasn't having the conversation as Ianto's boss. Or, not over dinner. He was going to call Alice to see if she was all right with meeting her brother, and they could have dinner with her and Steven. Ianto had already warned him to tell Phil and Alice both exactly who they were, so they didn't end up in the middle of a Greek tragedy before the pudding.

"Sir," said Johnson from her station, and Jack held his shudder. He really had to stop her using that, because he'd long since got used to a more inappropriate connotation.

He sauntered over to her and rested an arm on her chair. "What's up?"

"I think we've got a Rift spike coming up." The predictor program hummed to itself as Johnson showed him the variables. Mainframe didn't seem to like Johnson much, and stuttered oddly from time to time, but now the numbers scrolled across her screen.

Tonight. Seven o'clock. The same place they'd come through.

"Already?"

He said it to himself, but saw Johnson frown at him. "It makes sense. If the ends ripple again, they're unlikely to hit the same place in space-time." Which was entirely not how it happened, but he wasn't explaining now.

"Yeah. All right. Let me … I'll tell him. Them." None of the men had accomplished or changed anything here. Jack hated when he let himself think there was a purpose to these things. He was always wrong.

He left Johnson, but couldn't make himself go tell Phil, not yet. He strode purposefully up to the greenhouse, where he could be alone for a few minutes to think, and also have a decent view of the rest.

Gwen was already in there.

"Hey," he said, when he noticed her bent over one of the pots. Gwen had taken over the care of the plants after Owen's second death. Jack had figured it was her own private therapy and left her to the task. She tried following the random notes he'd made, but Owen hadn't even been sure of what half of the alien flora samples had been, and his notes had been for himself. Without the exact right care, a few of the plants had withered, and Jack was pretty sure Gwen cried each time, mourning all over again.

Sure enough, her eyes were red when she turned to see him. "Oh. Sorry. I was just … "

She let out a heavy breath, and Jack pulled her into a hug, let her tremble against him for a moment until she caught her bearings again. "You gonna be okay?"

She leaned back so she could look at him. "I'm fine. Just had a moment there."

"It can be our secret."

The hug was getting to that awkward stage they sometimes did, and Jack stepped back with as much grace as he could. Through the window, he saw Phil shrugging on one of Jack's shirts to replace the one shredded by the invisible face-eating alien. Ianto said something, no idea what, but Phil laughed as Ianto carried off the ruined shirt.

Jack should be down there, should be spending every last second with Phil. They only had a few hours left. The grief hit him so hard he couldn't breathe.

"Jack?"

He'd forgotten Gwen, felt her gentle hand on his arm. He rested his hand atop hers. "Just catching my breath. Been a busy couple of days."

"Oh yes," she said, with an odd hiccupping giggle.

"He has to go home tonight. The Rift is going to open up. I didn't think … I thought, since he was here, I'd get to keep him longer."

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Jack didn't play favourites, couldn't have favourites. No-one could have a favourite child. It would be unfair to the others, and with Jack's life ahead, there would be many others, by accident or otherwise. So all he would say was that it had been wonderful, for just a while, to have one child who didn't despise him, or fight with him, and who just loved Jack for who he was, too. "You'll see one of these days. When it's your kid, you'll do anything for him. Or her." Jack smiled. "I can see you with a little girl." She'd be cute as a button, like a little version of Gwen, and she'd be the apple of Rhys's eye, and Jack would be able to say that all the rules he'd bent to keep Gwen's life intact had been worth it.

"Do you think?" Gwen still sounded sad. She must be missing Owen something fierce today. Jack wrapped his arm around her.

"Oh yeah. Of course you're going to have to explain to Rhys why she looks like me."

Gwen let out a groan, ducked from his hold and punched him lightly on his bicep. "Don't you even start with me today, Harkness." Her tone was fierce but she was trying not to chuckle, and he was glad that he could make her laugh.

"I'm going to find better company," she said, and the smile was finally back on her face. He watched her go, then turned back to the window. Phil was right there, walking through the Hub, and Jack wanted to remember this forever, wanted to turn back the clock and keep Phil here in this place with him for as long as he could. But the clock insisted Phil had to go back, and there was no way to turn back the time.

A thought bloomed in Jack's mind, like an alien flower alive in sudden moonlight. Phil had to go back, but he didn't have to go back alone.


	4. Be All My Sins Remembered Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as Martha was free, Gwen went down to the med bay. Martha was just putting away supplies, and Gwen started to help, trying to remember where Owen had stocked everything.

Chapter Four

* * *

As soon as Martha was free, Gwen went down to the med bay. Martha was just putting away supplies, and Gwen started to help, trying to remember where Owen had stocked everything.

"Don't," Martha said, but kindly. "I'm trying to set up a system."

"All right." Gwen put the plasters down on the bed. Then she wasn't sure what to do with her hands.

Martha took one look and sighed. "Come on." They went into the small room where Martha had performed the examinations.

"So," Gwen said. "You processed the results?"

Martha nodded. "You're anaemic."

"Is that another side effect?" She hadn't been able to sneak a peek at the websites she wanted to visit, not with Torchwood at one end and Rhys at the other.

"No, that's a diagnosis. You've got low iron and a number of vitamin deficiencies making you tired, and between that and a massive amount of stress, your menstrual cycle isn't functioning properly right now."

Gwen opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. She finally managed a small, "What?"

Martha took her arm and sat her on the edge of the bed. "You're not pregnant. I checked twice. I know you're not eating right. When you do eat, you're eating whatever's put in front of you, and half your diet is coffee, it's no wonder you're nauseated."

"That's not … "

"And I'm doing the same thing, but for God knows how long, every hot meal you've had has been catered by two Welsh men who think beer and pizza are food groups."

Gwen was shocked into laughter. Rhys loved to cook, as long as it was spag bol or lasagne, and all right, yes, Ianto ate like a bloke in his mid-twenties which meant so did Jack and Gwen when they were at work, which was all the time.

"I'm not breaking much confidentiality to tell you Ianto's in the same boat. Jack's not, but he probably died recently, and he could use with better nutrition as well. I'm putting the two of you on supplements, and I want Lois to handle the food orders until further notice because she believes in vitamins."

Gwen's thoughts came back around again. "I'm not pregnant." She'd spent yesterday and today getting used to the idea, and while she was relieved, she discovered that part of her heart was breaking.

"Not currently, no. But that's good, right? You were worried about having to leave, and now you don't."

Gwen heard the false note in Martha's voice, and tried to match it. "Right."

Martha's eyes were sad. "I'll want regular reports, and if you haven't started your period within another week, call me and I'll repeat the test just to make sure."

"All right." Gwen frowned. "Call you?"

"I tested everyone the same way, just to have a baseline for the whole staff. The boys, too. This is Torchwood, after all. With our luck, it'd be Jack. But it wasn't."

Her face moved strangely, and it clicked. "Oh, Martha, really?"

"You're right, this is no place to be when you're expecting."

She managed a weak smile, and then Gwen hugged her hard, the sorrow she was feeling sliding away, replaced with a blooming joy for her friend.

* * *

Martha's head was still buzzing when she went out of medical into the Hub proper. There was so much to do, to think about. She hadn't even called Tom yet to tell him, but she'd wanted to tell someone. Gwen was already grinning excitedly for her, and Martha knew it'd be a hard-kept secret. Martha would have to inform Jack anyway. Like she'd told Gwen, Torchwood was no longer a good option for her.

Not that she had a lot of good options.

She didn't want to go, though at least she had multiple ways to continue working. Tom would want to be home more, she was certain, and she hoped he'd be happy rather than resentful.

She moved an absent hand over her abdomen. Before the wedding, she'd done some quick research on the Doctor's known companions in the UNIT databases. The ones who'd lived, who hadn't vanished, some had gone on to have children of their own, ergo the radiation from the TARDIS shouldn't be an issue there. Still, she'd been exposed to so many unusual factors even aside from the standard Vortex weirdness - her brief time at the Pharm, her abductions by the Sontarans and by the carpoolers on New Earth, just for starters - that she worried already for a child she hadn't known about this morning.

So it was understandable, she decided later, that she didn't at first pay close attention to what Lois was saying, in the report she showed to Jack and the rest. Martha only caught the very end: " … likely was going to stay here all along."

"What?" she said, coming closer. "Staying?" Martha wasn't staying. She couldn't stay.

"Fletcher," said Jack's son. "Your records say he went MIA the day we came through. He's supposed to stay here."

* * *

Ianto was definitely not hiding in Jack's bunker. He'd dusted, given Jack's spare pair of boots a polish, and was sorting the little pile of laundry now that he'd noticed the mess. They slept here only when they'd worked so late into the night that it was ridiculous to go back to the flat, but dirty clothes still accumulated when Ianto was too busy to clean.

He picked up a shirt, his own, and tried to remember the last time he'd worn it. At least a month had gone by, he thought, perhaps longer. Oh yes, that had been the day they'd crawled back to the Hub at ten in the morning after a gruelling night, and had passed out for a few hours while Gwen went home, so that was before the new recruits.

Half a smile touched his lips, as he looked around the unlived-in space.

"Hey."

Ianto spun around, shirt in hand, and did not scream. Jack's head poked down from the hole in the ceiling, hair askew by the demands of gravity.

"Sorry. Did you need something?"

The face disappeared, to be replaced by Jack's body climbing down the ladder. Ianto waited patiently until he reached the floor.

"Sit down. I wanted to talk to you for a minute. Couple things."

"All right." As he always did, Ianto ran through the quick and nervous 'Are we breaking up?' checklist, and came up with a 'No.' He sat beside Jack on the tiny camp bed. "What did you want to talk about?"

"What happened with Lois. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?" He'd settled back into his own head, and they'd managed to work together well over the last few stressful days. Ianto was proud of himself.

Jack made his 'I don't want to be having this conversation but here we are' face. "We never talked about what happened when I was gone with the Doctor that first time."

Ianto frowned in confusion. "Do we need to? I thought we agreed whatever had happened, it was finished." And didn't have anything to do with Lois.

"Right. But, while I was gone, did you … ?"

"Did I … ?"

"I'm not going to tell you I spent that whole year celibate." Jack had touched upon this before, lightly. He and Martha thought they were being oblique and clever when they talked about the year that never was. The two of them hadn't been together for long, but Martha's sister had been confined with Jack, and later Ianto had met her at the wedding. Tish was just as gorgeous as Martha, and Ianto didn't blame her or Jack in the slightest. And as Jack had said, it was finished.

"I didn't think you were. For one thing, when you got back, you didn't rip off anyone's clothes."

"Hey, I never rip. Pop buttons, maybe. So, while I was gone," he said, "did you see anyone?"

"You mean socially?"

"Yeah. I mean socially."

Ianto stood and went back to tidying. Jack followed him, cramped in the small space. "We agreed not to discuss it. But since you seem to be ignoring that agreement, no. The team was down a man, we were constantly fielding calls from higher up demanding to know where you were, we were all run off our feet, and I spent half my nights here taking the overnight shift because I was used to sleeping at the Hub anyway." He closed the laundry hamper. "There wasn't time for social."

"Then I came back."

"Yes." And they'd talked, what little Jack could say about what had happened, and they'd fallen asleep talking, there on the king-sized bed at the hotel, still fully clothed. Ianto woke first, and had watched Jack sleeping, wondering what he'd been through to exhaust him to this point, and feeling, well, a bit chuffed honestly that Jack felt safe enough to sleep beside him after everything.

"And you can call this ego and crack a joke if you want, but I know you haven't been with anyone else since then."

There was nothing embarrassing about that. "And?"

"I was pretty sure I was the only one since Lisa died, but I wanted to be sure."

Ianto closed his eyes. "Did Martha find anything? Did Lois or I give each other something that your immune system bounced out?" Scenarios began unspooling in his head, each worse than the last.

"No." Jack looked confused, his brows drawn tight. Then he relaxed. "No, not as far as I know."

"Oh. Good. Then what are we talking about, exactly?"

"You keep calling Lois 'Lisa.'"

He hesitated, thinking back. "No, I don't."

"She's noticed you doing it. She thinks you're saying her name wrong. I didn't correct her."

Ianto opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "No, that's not possible. I'd never do that."

"It makes a lot of sense. I mean, she's the first woman you've had sex with since you lost Lisa, and the names are close enough … "

His stomach dropped. He'd been trying not to think about Lisa, trying not to compare them, did not want to be that man who was attracted to a woman because he had a type rather than because of who she was. And instead, his subconscious had gone ahead and done it for him. He was that man after all. He felt ill.

"You're not stupid. You aren't going to start thinking Lois is Lisa, and stalk her or anything. Right?"

"Of course not. I just … " Completely fucked up. Oh God.

"Hey, I'm sure it's going to be fine. Just pay closer attention next time to what you're saying."

Ianto nodded, still horrified, and Jack rubbed his cheek affectionately until Ianto got himself back under control.

"When this is done," Jack said, "I want you to consider talking to someone."

"About what? Accidentally calling my co-worker by my dead girlfriend's name?"

"That's a start. You're not okay, Ianto. You always say you are, and you're really good at making everyone believe you are, but you're messed up."

Ianto pulled back. "Thanks." Jack grabbed his shoulders and wouldn't let him move.

"And a lot of that is my fault, and that's why I'm no good at helping you with it. I wish I could be. Gwen gets to go home to Rhys and talk things out to him. You're stuck with me," he said with a quirky smile. Ianto couldn't bear to return it.

"I'm fine. Really I'm fine. I was tired, and frankly, we could both use more sleep, and … "

"Ianto, please shut up."

"Excuse me?"

Jack took a breath. "Neither of us has been fine for a long time." Too true. It was why they got on so well; the places each was broken matched up to the jagged edges of the other. Jack's thumb began rubbing circles on his arm where the cast had been. "You think you're going to die, don't you?"

He tried a nonchalant shrug. "It's Torchwood." As if that were the only answer.

Jack led him back to sit on the bed. "Give me a selfish moment here, okay? There's no way I'm not going to lose you. I have to live with that every single day, knowing that there's going to come a time when you're going to be gone, and I'll have to just keep going." A thick note was in his voice. Given the events of the past few days, Ianto guessed he wasn't really the one Jack was thinking about right now. "When you say you don't expect to live very long like it's a given, and you mix up the names of the living and the dead, and you stop following orders, and you beg to go out on dangerous missions, all I can think is that you're speeding up that process, and I'm going to lose you before I can even blink."

For a moment, Jack's layered mask peeled back, and there was nothing but fear, naked and lonely. Ianto pulled him in for a quick kiss. Whether or not this was about him, about Jack's son, or about the memories that haunted them throughout the Hub, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. Ianto knew he would be dead sooner rather than later, but that wasn't the story Jack needed to hear, not now.

"I'm not trying to get myself killed. I swear. But I'll talk to someone." There was a section in the policy manual about therapy. He could make an appointment to appease Jack, and one for Jack as well, because he'd need one when this business with Harrison was finished. Hell, they still hadn't properly recovered from the incident with the ghosts a month ago, just another damn thing about this job that never ended. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack." He sealed the lie with a quick smile. At his words, the shutters clamped tight over Jack's face again. "What's wrong?"

"Almost forgot." Jack took a breath. "Johnson found a Rift spike coming up tonight. Phil and the guys are going home."

"Oh. That was fast."

"Yeah." He couldn't read the mix of emotions on Jack's face. "I'm going with them."

His ears had stopped working. Ianto blinked. "What?"

Jack took his hands. "I'm going to loop again. I'll go back with Phil, and after … Look, I'll make my way back to Torchwood and have them freeze me again. Rhydian and Llinos will be so pleased." He tried to laugh, but it came out broken. "You won't even notice I'm gone. It'll be an hour, tops."

"That'll be sixty four years for you."

"I'll be asleep for most of it. And then you can wake me up. Come on, tell me you've never wanted to do the Prince Charming routine." His tone was light, but the worry was back on his face, and Ianto warmed to the idea that this was worry for _him_ , that Jack was concerned Ianto would be hurt.

"How will I know where you are?"

"You pick the drawer. Name one that should be empty, and I'll go into that one. Then, right after I go through the Rift, you open me up. If you're fast enough, we might have time before the others get back."

"Not even your metabolism can manage an erection right after coming out of the freezer." This was actually going to happen. Jack was going to jump back through time again.

Jack laughed, and his eyes were a little less sad. "I'll take that as a challenge. Which drawer?"

Ianto thought. "43. No, 44. I know 43 is empty."

"Did we empty it recently?"

"No, I cleaned it. 43 is, um, my drawer." He looked away from Jack, who'd lost the smile. "For when the time comes. I wanted to make sure it wouldn't be much trouble to get one ready. I've mentioned it in my file." Perhaps therapy wasn't such a bad idea.

Jacks's lips went to Ianto's head. He paused, like he was going to say something, and then let out a breath. "Drawer 44. I'll let them know."

He wanted to beg Jack not to do this, to remind him that the last time he looped, he woke up five minutes too late to save Tosh, and Ianto could not stand to lose someone else. Jack's lips moved from his head to meet Ianto's mouth, and in reply, he kissed him deeply and softly and sweetly, like a promise that wasn't a lie.

* * *

It was with a strange electricity that Phil sat in the car. Such a whirlwind trip to the future, and now they were going back, except Fletcher was staying and Jack was going. He'd only caught a glimpse of the report, the one that listed Fletcher as MIA, but it had been enough. The future, the past, it all came clear, and when his father pulled him aside and explained the plan, Phil had felt a weird peace move through him, like this was right, and proper, and the way things had always been meant to happen.

He met Jack's eyes in the mirror. The doctor was coming with them to the safe house to check over Fletcher again, but her eyes were focused out the window, either lost in her own world or pretending to give them some privacy.

"It's going to be soon, isn't it?"

Jack's eyes flicked away.

"A couple of weeks? Days?"

Jack was quiet for a long time. "A little over a week."

Phil let out his breath, the feeling of a hard destiny closing in around him. Eight days, maybe nine, and it was war, and he'd known this would come. "Thanks."

"For telling you when you're going to die?"

"That. And for being there with me when I do." For the goodbye.

The doctor glanced over from her seat, staring for a moment at Jack before returning to her inspection of the world outside.

When they arrived at the safe house, the lads were full of questions: why were they going back so soon, why was Jack going with them?

"It's all right," Jack said, one of his better faked smiles at the ready. "I'm going back. I can avoid myself for a while, and get on with my life once the other me comes through." Stibbs's face was aglow.

Phil took Fletcher aside as the others chatted and got ready to leave. "You're going to be in good hands here. Dr. Jones will explain things to you once we've gone." And Jack would be there to help, but he couldn't tell anyone that, not the greatest secret of his life.

Fletcher looked lost. "I want to go back with you. The war's not over."

"For you it is. But this is good, yeah? New world to explore. You always loved those pulp novels about the spaceships and the aliens, and I couldn't tell you back then, but they're real, and you'll get to see them all." Fletcher didn't have any family left to speak of, so that was a blessing. He placed a hand on Fletcher's shoulder. "You're meant to stay."

"I'll never see you fellows again."

Phil looked at Jack. A little over a week. "No, you won't. You'll be here, long after the rest of us are dead and gone, and you'll have to remember us. That's the duty of the one who lives." He met Fletcher's eyes kindly. "Are you up for that mission, Corporal?"

Fletcher's voice was a whisper. "I'll do my best."

* * *

Gwen tried not to worry as she drove to the site. Jack would be fine, more than fine. Clad in a vintage uniform, he looked the part convincingly. Something about him always shone out when he dressed for that era, as though he'd been born to live there, time and time again.

"I don't like this," Johnson said, beside her.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

Johnson turned, her semi-permanent scowl firmly in place. "There's no question of that. I don't have as much faith in the timeline. Captain Harkness has proven he's not averse to changing the timeline to suit himself. We could be looking at a serious breach."

"He knows better. He just wants to be there for his son at the end. We'd all do the same."

"I wouldn't."

From the backseat, Lois said, "When did the Captain rewrite the timeline?"

"Oh," said Gwen. "There was a year that went a bit differently from what we all remember. Ask Martha about it some time." Not that Martha ever said much, either. "I think we died, all of us, but Jack put it to rights."

As Gwen pulled up, she saw Jack's car and parked beside it. He'd gone by the safe house with Martha, who would stay there with Fletcher and get him started on a proper transition to the twenty-first century. The four men stood at the site, waiting. Jack looked completely natural with the others, his face glowing in anticipation. He touched Phil's arm, then walked over.

* * *

Ianto had run out of busy work, for once, and went down to the morgue to pace. Jack had said to give him about an hour. It had been forty five minutes. Logically, if the time loop happened, it had always happened, so Jack was already in the drawer.

Jack had spent over a hundred years in a drawer. If he'd come out early, Tosh might still be alive.

Ianto tapped an unhappy rhythm on his trouser leg.

* * *

Lois checked the readings on her scanner. The Rift opening was imminent. No-one asked.

Jack said to Gwen, "If everything goes according to plan, you won't even miss me. If for some reason it doesn't, you're in charge until I get back."

Gwen nodded. No surprise there, but perhaps he'd said it so Johnson and Lois both could hear. Presumably Ianto already knew from prior experience, and Martha wasn't staying.

The scanner hummed. The Rift would open in about one minute.

Jack glanced over. "How long?"

Lois thought fast. "Eight more minutes."

"Okay. Johnson, you take the SUV back. Gwen, you can drive my car." He handed her the keys. "Pick up Martha and Perry and take them to the Hub. We can get started on setting up Perry's new life. Lois?"

"Sir?"

"I'll need you to ... "

The scanner went wild.

* * *

Forty seven minutes was long enough to wait. He could bring Jack out of stasis, kiss him awake as Jack had suggested, and everything would be back to normal.

* * *

"What the hell?" Jack said, spinning to face the place where the Rift crackled with energy.

"Sorry," Lois said, horror on her face. "It spiked."

Phil and the others were already fading. Jack sprinted towards them.

* * *

The drawer slid out smoothly. Ianto stared at the empty tray.

* * *

"No!" Jack shouted, feeling the remnant energy charge him, but not enough, never enough. Phil called out to him, tried to say something, was gone.

Jack touched only air.

* * *

Ianto shut the door with a clang. Heart racing, mind numb, he opened drawer 43 on a gamble.

Inside, there was nothing but a folded note.

* * *

Gwen saw the moment when Jack's heart broke, and she mourned for his sake. One last chance, and he'd lost it forever. "I'm so sorry," she said, when he finally wrenched his gaze away from where Phil had been standing. She took his arm, gave him a half-hug. She'd only lost the idea of a child today. She couldn't imagine what Jack was going through now.

"I thought it would work," he said hollowly.

Johnson took the scanner from Lois's hands, glancing at it. "The Rift is closed again. There's nothing left here." She let the statement hang in the air, but Jack said nothing.

"Let's go home," Gwen said.

* * *

Ianto rubbed his temples and sighed. He'd spent the last three hours building the scaffolding of a history for Perry Fletcher (born 1986, parents recently deceased, good school records, steady if unimaginative work history, and five faked photographs at various ages including his passport photo). He'd need job training and lessons in how the world had changed, and Ianto was sure he and Lois would end up saddled with both tasks.

Fletcher was currently shadowing Gwen as she finished up her own reports. His attention, though, kept being drawn to the work bench Johnson was using to poke at a bit of alien tech they'd found last week. "What's that?" he kept asking, as she set aside parts. "That looks like … " He frowned. "That changes something into something else, doesn't it?"

Johnson kept shooting him annoyed looks every time he spoke. Ianto got up from his station and went closer. "I believe so. Jack says it's a matter converter."

Fletcher nodded. "That makes sense."

"It does?" asked Johnson, disbelief heavy on her features.

"Sure. See how this bit goes?" Fletcher began waving his hands near the device, never actually touching it. Ianto watched him, watched how his face lit up as he tried to find words about this shiny new toy that he'd clearly never seen before but still understood.

Gwen tilted her head oddly, and she met Ianto's eyes, raising her own eyebrows.

Ianto shrugged, but a smile tipped the edges of his mouth. Fletcher would have to be trained from the ground up, but he'd be trained within Torchwood, among all their amazing technology and with Tosh's meticulous records. There were worse ways to find new people, especially now that they'd also need a new doctor.

His smile grew. Martha was going to be a mother. Something good was coming out of this place.

In his pocket, he kept the note safe. His name had been on the front, and he'd opened it as the voices came over the comms telling him that the mission had failed, that Jack was coming home the regular way. In Jack's unmistakeable handwriting, Ianto had read, _"Everything is going to be okay. I love you. - CJH"_ There was also a scribbled word at the bottom which Ianto couldn't make out, something hasty that looked like _"Spinach"_. Possibly the paper had been part of a shopping list.

Jack hadn't written the note yet. Jack would loop again someday, or drop back, and he would remember drawer 43 and leave a love letter behind. Every time Ianto thought about it, he tried not to grin from ear to ear.

* * *

There was a knock on his door. Jack didn't even look up. "Come in."

Martha let herself inside. "Hi."

He managed a smile for her. "I'm going to have to work on my jokes. What are baby nightingales called anyway?"

"This one's going to be called Sarah. At least, that's what Tom wants."

"And you?"

She sighed. "When I figure that out, I'll let you know." She sat down opposite him, and he took her hand gently. From the moment he'd met her, he'd loved Martha more than a little bit. She'd become the sister he'd never known he needed. She squeezed his hand. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," he said. "I will be. I've done this before." He made a face, thinking about the people he'd buried. Quietly, he said, "Sometimes, I … " Out in the Hub proper, he could hear the others talking. Gwen was saying something, and Ianto was laughing, and his heart ached just thinking about them. How long until he opened drawer 43, alone and in pain and full of grief? How long until Gwen was gone?

He'd closed his heart, kept it safe, or tried. Care about people, but not too much. Allow them in, but only so far. Don't let himself fall in love. None of these plans had worked, but he tried.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

"Losing people you love?"

He looked out the window, and then back at her. "Yeah. And I have to. This is my life, forever and ever. Any time I care about someone, I know it'll end the same way. I've got other kids. One of them is going to die soon. Alice says she already looks older than I do. And it's always going to be this way. Come the end of the universe, I'll be out there on some rock watching the last of the human race shoot off for a Utopia that doesn't exist, and I'll just keep going. Alone."

Martha's face twisted. Damn, he hadn't meant to lay that particular pain on her. Then she said, "He never told you."

"He who?"

"Him." Her face was set.

"Oh."

"A long time from now, so long that even the Earth is gone, billions of years in the future, you're going to die saving a whole world. A real death."

He looked at her strangely. "What?"

"People who love you are going to be with you. The Doctor and I, we're going to be there beside you. But," she tiptoed around her words, "you're going to change. You're going to look different, and we won't know who you are, not really. You can't tell us. But it was you. I know it was you."

His world tilted, and only the fact that he held onto his chair kept him from falling. "I'm really going to die some day?" She nodded, a spill of tears edging her eyes. "Promise?" She nodded again.

He swept around his desk and lifted her into the air, mindful of not squishing the new member of her family. He set her down again and kissed her on the head. "Thank you."

He grabbed her hand and hurried down the stairs to the rest of the Hub, slowing only enough so that he didn't drag her off her feet. Martha laughed as she ran with him, and he finally let her go at the bottom of the stairs. He made a beeline for the others, and without preamble, he took Gwen into a hug, and then he clapped Johnson on the arm, and the same to poor confused Perry, and then he pressed up as closely to Ianto as he could and kissed him. Ianto's mouth was surprised open, and Jack took his time, what time he had - he had time now! limited and wonderful! - and held Ianto as the kiss was returned in full measure. They finally broke for breath, foreheads resting against one another like two halves of an arch.

"I'm going to die!" Jack announced, a bit breathless.

"What?" said Ianto. "Right now?"

"Nope. In billions of years. So we've got some time to kill."

From behind him, Jack heard Gwen say, "How do you know?"

Martha said, "A little bird told him."

The cog door opened, and Lois came in from where she'd been working in the Tourist Centre. "Did I miss something?" she asked, as Jack took the opportunity to kiss Ianto again.

* * *

"I'm going to miss him," Jack said. It was the first he'd spoken in about an hour. The initial elation at finding out he came with an expiration date had settled back into his previous melancholy. Ianto had taken his own paperwork up to Jack's office in order to spend time with him and be a listening ear if he needed one, and also to reassure himself that Jack was no longer going away.

At Jack's words, Ianto glanced at the form he was working on and set it down to one side. "Yes. You are. And so are we." He didn't want to ask if Jack wanted to talk. Jack talked when he was ready, and that was that.

"When he was a little boy, he was never afraid of anything. Frank would always shy away from climbing trees or jumping in head first when they went swimming. But Phil loved it."

"He kept his memories." Ianto hadn't thought about it until the words came out. "We never Retconned him or the others. They remembered being here, remembered about you."

"Phil and Mark didn't live to tell anyone. Jason thought I was a Rift refugee anyway."

"But Phil remembered you, that you were going to go with him. He knew that you loved him."

Jack's eyes crinkled in thought, and for a moment, Ianto saw where the wrinkles would form, millennia from now. "Yeah. I guess he did."

Self-satisfied, Ianto sat back. Jack returned to his quiet thoughts, gradually scooting his chair over to his window. Classic Harkness work avoidance technique. Ianto chose not to call him on it, not this time.

"Interesting," Jack said, after a while.

"What's that?"

"Come see."

Ianto put down his paperwork again and went over to where Jack spied on their co-workers. Gwen was chatting with Martha, likely over babies again. Johnson was sitting at her station, looking up something on her computer. Fletcher was at the station they hadn't yet designated as his, and Lois was beside him. She leaned near him, eyes on what he was doing, but drifting back to his with quick, shy smiles. "Is she flirting with him?"

"Looks like."

"Do you want to give him the standard 'If you break her heart, we'll shoot out your kneecaps' speech, or shall I?" Part of him thought he ought to be jealous. Part of him probably was.

"Save it. Keep it for later. Perry's a good guy." That was the nicest thing Jack had said about Fletcher yet. But it was going to be hard for a while on Jack, thinking about might have beens, and Ianto would give him space. "So, office betting pool time. What kind of odds do you give them?"

Ianto thought, but only for a brief moment. "A military man lost in time and a stunningly attractive personal assistant? It'd never work out."

"Smartarse."

* * *

The boys had left about an hour ago, _all_ the boys: Jack and Ianto were going to drop off Perry at the safe house on their way home. His new flat would be available next week, and in the meantime, he could have a semi-familiar space in which to continue his acclimation to this strange new world.

Lois smiled. He was so full of questions, only a few of which she could answer. But he seemed nice, a bit old-fashioned as could be expected, and he was good-looking in a more subdued way than their movie-star marquee Captain. Perry had made a joke that he was the only person he knew, other than Phil, who'd never had any interest in sleeping with Jack; Ianto had drawn up employment papers on the spot. Lois had already agreed to take him on a tour of the city tomorrow.

Gwen had just left, affectionately prodding Lois to do the same. Lois would finish up one last item Jack had requested, perhaps do a quick bit of sniffing in the records to add to her knowledge, and head home. It was a good day.

Which was somewhat ruined by the click of a safety and the muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of her head. Her mouth went dry. No matter now how she'd been found out, the important tasks now were assuaging suspicion and staying alive.

"Who are you working for?"

Ah. This was going to be easier than she'd dared hope. She could even explain away the CCTV glitch later. "The same as you." Lois kept calm, kept her eyes in front of her, kept her voice steady. "Gloucester."

Agent Johnson said, "You could have got that from the surveillance you've been keeping on me." The gun didn't move.

"I could have. But then I wouldn't know that his orders have all come through Mr. Frobisher, because he has not contacted you even once since you were found out."

"They sent me."

"And they knew you'd attract attention, which is why they sent me." She turned, set her face into her best slightly scared but willing to serve doe-eyed secretary mien. "I'm sweet, and quiet, and people like me."

Johnson lowered the gun, and she smirked. "I thought you were too perky to be real. Cooper swallowed that completely. I'm less sure about Harkness."

Lois was sure, but she didn't need to tell Johnson why. "How did you know?"

"You lied at the site yesterday. About the time the Rift was opening. Why?"

"My job is to observe and report, and to intervene when possible. Jack was planning to subvert the timeline for his own ends. That could have been disastrous. I saw the opportunity to prevent the plan, and I took it." She tried not to think about the hurt on Jack's face as he watched Harrison vanish. "Are you going to turn me in to them?"

"God, no. My mission hasn't changed. Her Majesty's Fuckups have too much power and not nearly enough oversight. Captain Harkness is a person of interest in the murders of the American President and Harold Saxon. His willingness to subvert or ignore the orders of the government has been well-established. The Crown protects them, but someone has to protect the world _from_ them. If they go against orders, if they sacrifice the interests of the British people and the world for their own ends, someone has to step in."

They would, Lois knew with an unhappy shiver. Jack would be told something he didn't want to hear, and he'd follow his own head, and Gwen and Ianto were far too caught up in him to stop him. The only real questions were what would be the breaking point, and when would Lois be obligated to follow her own orders?

"Prevent situations when possible, take down the team if necessary."

Johnson said, "I've come up with some scenarios which might be able to contain the Captain. The others can be captured or killed." Lois leaned towards the former. Their previous doctor had been a wealth of information about incapacitating drugs, at least before he'd been given a specially-laced cup of coffee and sent home for good. Lois had been more circumspect around Martha, but then, Martha wouldn't be handed Retcon at the end of her tenure.

"We'll want allies."

"Your new friend is already a member of the Harkness Cult." Johnson leaned over Lois's shoulder and typed a name on her screen. Lois had been collating a list of potential new doctors for the team once Martha left. "I spent months trying to get this one in. They'd never accept a nomination from me."

"I'll move him to the top of the pile." Patanjali was already on their list of potential new doctors. Lois would see to it that he was hired.

Johnson smiled tightly. "Good girl."

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

In the darkness of her cell, she told herself stories.

Once upon a time, there was an evil wizard who made the world love him. He was handsome and charismatic, and to seal the spell he'd cast, he wooed and married a lovely princess, and promised her that he would set her as the Queen of the whole universe. She believed him, and she loved him, and she watched as he ripped holes in time, and she stood by as he murdered millions, and the spell in her head said it was right.

But there was a good wizard, who worked his own quiet magic as the Earth burned slowly, unwriting the spell in the people and in the princess. He sent one knight out into the world to weave a counterspell on his behalf, and a second knight hung in chains, singing defiantly even as the evil wizard plucked out his heart and murdered the people he loved. Imprisoned with them were a beautiful maiden and her parents, subject to the evil wizard's wrath but shielded from the worst of it by his vow to destroy them in front of the wandering knight. Nothing shielded the princess. When the enchantment was broken, the world recreated, and the dead set to walk again, the last of his wicked spells guided the princess's hand, but she chose to pull the trigger in memory of all he'd done, to the world and to her.

Stories needed tidy endings, and the people were told the princess drank a poison draught and died by her own hand just a few days later. Instead, her gaolers changed her name and cut her hair and bundled her here, locking her up tight in a tower, or a dungeon, she could not tell which, and they said, "We are keeping you here forever and no-one will ever know."

She hoped the other prisoners found their happy endings.

But she remembered songs in the dark nights, remembered the stories he told to keep up their spirits, after his friends were safely, bitterly dead. She'd seen the Millennium Centre targeted with Harry's bombs, and she knew the tales of a tatty little tourist office along the quay. She could get out one message, just one, in the hands of a soft-hearted guard, and while the addressee had no reason at all to like her, to help her, to even care, she had no other to ask.

"Please. I'm alive. Help me. Lucy."

* * *

The End  



End file.
